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Home  »  Leaves of Grass  »  203. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours

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

203. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours

1

YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also;

Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles!

Earth to a chamber of mourning turns—I hear the o’erweening, mocking voice,

Matter is conqueror—matter, triumphant only, continues onward.

2

Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me,

The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm’d, uncertain,

The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,

Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination.

3

I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,

I approach, hear, behold—the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, your mute inquiry,

Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me:

Old age, alarm’d, uncertain—A young woman’s voice, appealing to me for comfort;

A young man’s voice, Shall I not escape?