Leaves of Grass

Author: Walt Whitman  | Date: 1855

Last of Ebb, and Daylight Waning

LAST of ebb, and daylight waning,

Scented sea-cool landward making, smells of sedge and salt incoming,

With many a half-caught voice sent up from the eddies,

Many a muffled confession- many a sob and whisper’d word,

As of speakers far or hid.

How they sweep down and out! how they mutter!

Poets unnamed- artists greatest of any, with cherish’d lost designs,

Love’s unresponse- a chorus of age’s complaints- hope’s last words,

Some suicide’s despairing cry, Away to the boundless waste, and

never again return.

On to oblivion then!

On, on, and do your part, ye burying, ebbing tide!

On for your time, ye furious debouche!


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Chicago: Walt Whitman, "Last of Ebb, and Daylight Waning," Leaves of Grass Original Sources, accessed July 14, 2024, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=DBNNZ86UUJQ8E23.

MLA: Whitman, Walt. "Last of Ebb, and Daylight Waning." Leaves of Grass, Original Sources. 14 Jul. 2024. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=DBNNZ86UUJQ8E23.

Harvard: Whitman, W, 'Last of Ebb, and Daylight Waning' in Leaves of Grass. Original Sources, retrieved 14 July 2024, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=DBNNZ86UUJQ8E23.