Nothing New

Classic writing, modern delivery

Walt Whitman · Leaves of Grass

Poem 369 of 382 · Sands at Seventy

Sounds of the Winter

— ✻ —

Sounds of the winter too,
Sunshine upon the mountains--many a distant strain
From cheery railroad train--from nearer field, barn, house,
The whispering air--even the mute crops, garner’d apples, corn,
Children’s and women’s tones--rhythm of many a farmer and of flail,
An old man’s garrulous lips among the rest, Think not we give out yet,
Forth from these snowy hairs we keep up yet the lilt.

Receive Walt Whitman one poem at a time, on your schedule.
Subscribe →