THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
Back to Walt Whitman
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Comments1Homework's killing me, but hey, this poem was pretty cool. Kinda deep and makes ya think. Like how sometimes we need to step away from all the stress to really recognize the beauty in the universe. Night, sleep, death and stars...deep stuff.