As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free
By Walt Whitman
(See pages [174], [268], [578], [726])
Beautiful World of new, superber Birth, that rises to my eyes,
Like a limitless golden cloud, filling the western sky....
Thou Wonder World, yet undefined, unformed—neither do I define thee;
How can I pierce the impenetrable blank of the future?
I feel thy ominous greatness, evil as well as good;
I watch thee, advancing, absorbing the present, transcending the past;
I see thy light lighting and thy shadow shadowing, as if the entire globe;
But I do not undertake to define thee—hardly to comprehend thee;
I but thee name—thee prophesy—as now!