As I Ponder'd in
Silence
As I ponder'd in
silence,
Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,
A Phantom
arose before me, with distrustful aspect,
Terrible in beauty, age, and
power,
The genius of poets of old lands,
As to me directing like flame its
eyes,
With finger pointing to many immortal songs,
And menacing voice,
"What singest thou"? it said;
"Know'st thou not, there is but one theme for
ever-enduring bards?
And that is the theme of War, the fortune of
battles,
The making of perfect soldiers"?
2
"Be it so", then I
answer'd,
I too, haughty Shade, also sing war
-- and a longer and greater
one
than any,
Waged in my
book with varying fortune -- with flight, advance, and
retreat -- Victory
deferr'd and wavering,
(Yet, methinks, certain, or as good as certain, at the
last)
-- The field the
world;
For life and death -- for the Body, and for the eternal Soul,
Lo!
too am come, chanting the chant of battles,
I, above all, promote brave
soldiers.
~ Walt Whitman
~
(Leaves of
Grass)
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