Poem – A Clear Midnight – Walt Whitman 

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.

1 thought on “Poem – A Clear Midnight – Walt Whitman 

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