Leaves of Grass

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Author: Walt Whitman  | Date: 1855

Wandering at Morn

WANDERING at morn,

Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts,

Yearning for thee harmonious Union! thee, singing bird divine!

Thee coil’d in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay,

with every meanness, treason thrust upon thee,

This common marvel I beheld- the parent thrush I watch’d feeding its

young,

The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic,

Fail not to certify and cheer my soul.

There ponder’d, felt I,

If worms, snakes, loathsome grubs, may to sweet spiritual songs be

turn’d,

If vermin so transposed, so used and bless’d may be,

Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my country;

Who knows but these may be the lessons fit for you?

From these your future song may rise with joyous trills,

Destin’d to fill the world.

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Chicago: Walt Whitman, "Wandering at Morn," Leaves of Grass Original Sources, accessed February 4, 2023, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=8NSAJBSLBX2PDHM.

MLA: Whitman, Walt. "Wandering at Morn." Leaves of Grass, Original Sources. 4 Feb. 2023. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=8NSAJBSLBX2PDHM.

Harvard: Whitman, W, 'Wandering at Morn' in Leaves of Grass. Original Sources, retrieved 4 February 2023, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=8NSAJBSLBX2PDHM.