“As in a swoon, one
instant,
Another sun, ineffable, full dazzles me,
And all the orbs I knew, and brighter, unknown orbs,
One instant of the future land, Heaven’s land.
I cannot be awake, for nothing looks to me as it did
before,
Or else I am awake for the first time, and all before
has been a mean sleep.
When I try to tell the best I find, I cannot;
My tongue is ineffectual, on its pivots,
My breath will not be obedient to its organs,
I become a dumb man.”
—Whitman.
“Words from a man who
speaks from that life must sound vain to those who do not
dwell in the same thought on their own part.
I dare not speak for it. My
words do not carry its august sense; they fall short and
cold. Only itself can inspire whom it will,
and behold! their speechshall be lyrical, and sweet, and
universal as the rising of the wind. YetI desire, even by
profane words, if sacred I may not use, to indicatethe
heaven of this deity, and to report what hints I have
collected of the transcendent simplicity and energy of the
Highest Law.”
