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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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THE UNEXPRESS'D.
After the cycles, poems, singers, plays, |
Vaunted Ionia's, India's—Homer, Shakspere—the long, long
times' thick dotted roads, areas,
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The shining clusters and the Milky Ways of stars—Nature's
pulses reap'd,
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All retrospective passions, heroes, war, love, adoration, |
All ages' plummets dropt to their utmost depths, |
All human lives, throats, wishes, brains—all experiences' utter-
ance;
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After the countless songs, or long or short, all tongues, all lands, |
Still something not yet told in poesy's voice or print—something
lacking,
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(Who knows? the best yet unexpress'd and lacking.) |
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