Published Works

Books by Whitman

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BY THAT LONG SCAN OF WAVES.

By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon
myself,

In every crest some undulating light or shade—some retrospect,

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Joys, travels, studies, silent panoramas—scenes ephemeral,

The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and
the dead,

Myself through every by-gone phase—my idle youth—old age at
hand,

My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past,

By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing,

And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble—some
wave, or part of wave,

Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean.

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