Red Jacket (From Aloft)
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Walt Whitman
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Upon this scene, this show,
Yielded to-day by fashion, learning, wealth,
(Nor in caprice alone- some grains of deepest meaning,)
Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from distant sky-clouds' blended shapes,
As some old tree, or rock or cliff, thrill'd with its soul,
Product of Nature's sun, stars, earth direct- a towering human form,
In hunting-shirt of film, arm'd with the rifle, a half-ironical
smile curving its phantom lips,
Like one of Ossian's ghosts looks down.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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