Trinckle, Drops

Walt Whitman

 Next Poem          

TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins leaving!
O drops of me! trickle, slow drops,
Candid, from me falling--drip, bleeding drops,
From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd,
From my face--from my forehead and lips,
From my breast--from within where I was conceal'd--press forth, red
drops--confession drops;
Stain every page--stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody
drops;
Let them know your scarlet heat--let them glisten;
Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet;
Glow upon all I have written, or shall write, bleeding drops;


Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.

Next Poem 

 Back to Walt Whitman
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.