Walt Whitman

Shut Not Your Doors

Shut not your doors to me proud libraries,
For that which was lacking on all your
well-fill’d shelves, yet
needed most, I bring,
Forth from the war emerging,
a book I have made,
The words of my book nothing,
the drift of it every thing,
A book separate, not link’d with the rest
nor felt by the intellect,
But you ye untold latencies will thrill to every page.

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