Poems by Walt Whitman

by Walt Whitman

Each man to himself, and each woman to herself, such as the word of the
past and present, and the word of immortality;
No one can acquire for another—not one!
Not one can grow for another—not one!

The song is to the singer, and comes back most to him;
The teaching is to the teacher, and comes back most to him;
The murder is to the murderer, and comes back most to him;

The theft is to the thief, and comes back most to him;
The love is to the lover, and conies back most to him;
The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him—it cannot fail;
The oration is to the orator, the acting is to the actor and actress, not
to the audience;
And no man understands any greatness or goodness but his own, or the
indication of his own.

5.

I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him or her who shall be
complete!
I swear the earth remains jagged and broken only to him or her who remains
broken and jagged!

I swear there is no greatness or power that does not emulate those of the
earth!
I swear there can be no theory of any account, unless it corroborate the
theory of the earth!
No politics, art, religion, behaviour, or what not, is of account, unless
it compare with the amplitude of the earth,
Unless it face the exactness, vitality, impartiality, rectitude, of the
earth.

I swear I begin to see love with sweeter spasms than that which responds
love!
It is that which contains itself—which never invites, and never refuses.

I swear I begin to see little or nothing in audible words!
I swear I think all merges toward the presentation of the unspoken meanings
of the earth;
Toward him who sings the songs of the Body, and of the truths of the earth;
Toward him who makes the dictionaries of words that print cannot touch.

I swear I see what is better than to tell the best;
It is always to leave the best untold.

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot,
My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots,
My breath will not be obedient to its organs,
I become a dumb man.