To A Locomotive In Winter
by Walt Whitman
Thee for my recitative!
Thee in the driving storm, even as now–the snow–the winter-day
Thee in thy panoply, thy measured dual throbbing, and thy beat
Thy black cylindric body, golden brass, and silvery steel;
Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating,
shuttling at thy sides;
Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar–now tapering in the
Thy great protruding head-light, fix’d in front;
Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple;
The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack;
Thy knitted frame–thy springs and valves–the tremulous twinkle of
Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily-following,
Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careering:
Type of the modern! emblem of motion and power! pulse of the
For once, come serve the Muse, and merge in verse, even as here I see
With storm, and buffeting gusts of wind, and falling snow;
By day, thy warning, ringing bell to sound its notes,
By night, thy silent signal lamps to swing.
Roll through my chant, with all thy lawless music! thy swinging lamps
Thy piercing, madly-whistled laughter! thy echoes, rumbling like an
earthquake, rousing all!
Law of thyself complete, thine own track firmly holding;
(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)
Thy trills of shrieks by rocks and hills return’d,
Launch’d o’er the prairies wide–across the lakes,
To the free skies, unpent, and glad, and strong.
Poezie de sambata
Decembrie 11, 2010 de adinab