My Cart 
Login 

Previous

Miracles
by
Walt Whitman


Next
 

1.

What shall I give? and which are my miracles?

2.

Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your feet can carry you or your eyes reach.

3.

Why! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any
        one I love,
Or sit at the table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown—or of stars shining so quiet and
        bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best—mechanics,
        boatmen, farmers,
Or among the savans—or to the soirée—or to the opera.
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial,
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring—yet each distinct and in its place.

4.

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all
        that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

To me the sea is a continual miracle;
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships, with
        men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

This poem is in the public domain.

 

Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892) is primarily known for a collection of poems called Leaves of Grass, which he completely revised at least five times during the course of his life and which appeared in print in at least three different editions. Though his formal education ended with elementary school, Whitman was an educator at several points in his life. More often, he worked as a printer, a clerk, or a nurse; he was chronically poor, but managed to interject culture (he loved opera) and travel into his life. He achieved international acclaim during the course of his career, but probably had as many detractors as he did fans.

 

 


Post New Comment:
rhonasheridan:
I just do not know how to commrnt on this wonderful poetic ramble. This to me is what poetry is all about. Superb
Posted 07/07/2016 06:08 AM
barbsteff:
Whitman does run on doesn't he? All good observations, and I agree with them, but too many for one poem.
Posted 07/06/2016 12:16 PM
KevinArnold:
Just awesome.
Posted 07/06/2016 09:49 AM
paradea:
A page from Creation's bible!! I love this. It bears reading every morning to start the day!!
Posted 07/06/2016 08:19 AM
Larry Schug:
Right on, Walter!
Posted 07/06/2016 07:22 AM
Jean :D:
If everyone looked at life this way "...every hour of the light & dark is a miracle..." our world would be a Very Good Place. Ditto Newf.
Posted 07/06/2016 07:14 AM
blueskies:
A miracle mindset...so eloquently expressed with joy & wisdom. Honoring Walt Whitman deeply.Thanks, Jayne.
Posted 07/06/2016 07:01 AM
Newf:
Wonderful! I want to read it again and again and then again. It's al so true, I can't find words to express.
Posted 07/06/2016 05:08 AM


Contents of this web site and all original text and images therein are copyright © by Your Daily Poem. All rights reserved.
The material on this site may not be copied, reproduced, downloaded, distributed, transmitted, stored, altered, adapted,
or otherwise used in any way without the express written permission of the owner.