Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.
127. Year that Trembled
Y
Your summer wind was warm enough—yet the air I breathed froze me;
A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken’d me;
Must I change my triumphant songs? said I to myself;
Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled?
And sullen hymns of defeat?