You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me” You lingering sparse leaves of me on winter-nearing boughs, And I some well-shorn tree of field or orchard-row; Y… - Walt Whitman

I was thinking the day most splendid, till I saw what the not day exhibited, I was thinking this globe enough, till there sprang out so noiseless around me myriads of other globes. Now, while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me, I will measure myself by them: And now, touched with the lives of other globes, arrived as far along as those of the earth, Or waiting to arrive, or passed on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my own life, Or the lives of the earth arrived as far as mine, or waiting to arrive. 3. O I see now that life cannot exhibit all to me-as the day cannot, I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.

from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

The cleanest expression is that which finds no sphere worthy of itself, and makes one.