Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.

200. Darest Thou Now, O Soul

DAREST thou now, O Soul,

Walk out with me toward the Unknown Region,

Where neither ground is for the feet, nor any path to follow?

No map, there, nor guide,

Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,

Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.

I know it not, O Soul;

Nor dost thou—all is a blank before us;

All waits, undream’d of, in that region—that inaccessible land.

Till, when the ties loosen,

All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,

Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds, bound us.

Then we burst forth—we float,

In Time and Space, O Soul—prepared for them;

Equal, equipt at last—(O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil, O Soul.