“Supplement Hours”

Walt Whitman  –  From Selected Poems 1855 – 1892


Sane, random, negligent hours

Sane, easy, culminating hours

After the flush, the Indian summer, of my life

Away from Books – away from Art – the lesson learn’d, pass’d o’er

Soothing, bathing, merging all – the sane, magnetic

Now for the day and night themselves – the open air

Now for the fields, the seasons, insects, trees, the rain and snow

Where wild bees flitting hum

Or August mulleins grow, or winter’s snowflakes fall

Or stars in the skies roll round

The silent sun and stars



“I hope you will enjoy this Walt Whitman Poem, as much as I enjoy his work.   Anna”


13 thoughts on ““Supplement Hours”

      1. I have a VERY hard time understanding a lot of poetry. Especially the classical stuff. Which is odd since I love the regency dialect that Jane Austen wrote in.


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