Home ⇒ 📌Walt Whitman ⇒ Despairing Cries
Despairing Cries
1
DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,
The sad voice of Death-the call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarmed,
uncertain,
This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding-tell me my destination.
2
I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold-the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, your mute inquiry,
Whither I go from the bed I now recline on, come tell me;
Old age, alarmed, uncertain-A young woman’s voice appealing to me, for comfort,
A young man’s voice, Shall I not escape?
(2 votes, average: 3.50 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours 1 YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also; Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles! Earth to a chamber of mourning turns-I hear the o’erweening, mocking voice, Matter is conqueror-matter, triumphant only, continues onward. 2 Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, […]...
- Ballad Of The Despairing Husband My wife and I lived all alone, Contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me, And things went on right merrily. But now I live here by myself With hardly a damn thing on the shelf, And pass my days with little cheer Since I have parted from my dear. […]...
- As Adam, Early in the Morning AS Adam, early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refresh’d with sleep; Behold me where I pass-hear my voice-approach, Touch me-touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass; Be not afraid of my Body. 5...
- The Rock Cries Out to Us Today A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, […]...
- Street Cries Oft seems the Time a market-town Where many merchant-spirits meet Who up and down and up and down Cry out along the street Their needs, as wares; one THUS, one SO: Till all the ways are full of sound: But still come rain, and sun, and snow, And still the world goes round. I. Remonstrance. […]...
- One Joy of so much anguish One Joy of so much anguish Sweet nature has for me I shun it as I do Despair Or dear iniquity Why Birds, a Summer morning Before the Quick of Day Should stab my ravished spirit With Dirks of Melody Is part of an inquiry That will receive reply When Flesh and Spirit sunder In […]...
- An Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ, with Penetential Cries Salvation comes by Christ alone, The only Son of God; Redemption now to every one, That love his holy Word. Dear Jesus, we would fly to Thee, And leave off every Sin, Thy tender Mercy well agree; Salvation from our King. Salvation comes now from the Lord, Our victorious King. His holy Name be well […]...
- Street Cries WHEN dawn’s first cymbals beat upon the sky, Rousing the world to labour’s various cry, To tend the flock, to bind the mellowing grain, From ardent toil to forge a little gain, And fasting men go forth on hurrying feet, Buy bread, buy bread, rings down the eager street. When the earth falters and the […]...
- Two Years Later Has no one said those daring Kind eyes should be more learn’d? Or warned you how despairing The moths are when they are burned? I could have warned you; but you are young, So we speak a different tongue. O you will take whatever’s offered And dream that all the world’s a friend, Suffer as […]...
- Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
- Do You Hear The Angel Speaking? Do you hear the angel speaking? Do you hear her heavenly voice? Do you hear the song she’s singing? Will you help her to rejoice? Do you hear her when you’re weary And find it hard to cope? Do you hear her inspiration and Her messages of hope? Do you hear her voice of wisdom… […]...
- Whoever You are, Holding Me now in Hand WHOEVER you are, holding me now in hand, Without one thing, all will be useless, I give you fair warning, before you attempt me further, I am not what you supposed, but far different. Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections? The way is suspicious-the […]...
- Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
- Theme For English B The instructor said, Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple? I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem. I went to school there, then Durham, then here To this college on the hill above Harlem. I am […]...
- Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
- Love Constrained to Obedience No strength of nature can suffice To serve the Lord aright: And what she has she misapplies, For want of clearer light. How long beneath the law I lay In bondage and distress; I toll’d the precept to obey, But toil’d without success. Then, to abstain from outward sin Was more than I could do; […]...
- The Divine Lullaby I hear Thy voice, dear Lord; I hear it by the stormy sea When winter nights are black and wild, And when, affright, I call to Thee; It calms my fears and whispers me, “Sleep well, my child.” I hear Thy voice, dear Lord, In singing winds, in falling snow, The curfew chimes, the midnight […]...
- I Sit and Look Out I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done; I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate; I see the wife misused by […]...
- Spirit whose Work is Done SPIRIT whose work is done! spirit of dreadful hours! Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering pressing;) Spirit of many a solemn day, and many a savage scene! Electric spirit! That with muttering voice, through the war now closed, like a tireless […]...
- Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
- Before Summer Rain Suddenly, from all the green around you, Something-you don’t know what-has disappeared; You feel it creeping closer to the window, In total silence. From the nearby wood You hear the urgent whistling of a plover, Reminding you of someone’s Saint Jerome: So much solitude and passion come From that one voice, whose fierce request the […]...
- Uncertain lease develops lustre Uncertain lease develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum The shorter Fate is oftener the chiefest Because Inheritors upon a tenure Prize...
- 415. Song-The last time I cam o'er the Moor THE LAST time I came o’er the moor, And left Maria’s dwelling, What throes, what tortures passing cure, Were in my bosom swelling: Condemn’d to see my rival’s reign, While I in secret languish; To feel a fire in every vein, Yet dare not speak my anguish. Love’s veriest wretch, despairing, I Fain, fain, my […]...
- Hymn 10 The blessedness of gospel times. Isa. 52:2,7-10; Mt. 13:16,17. How beauteous are their feet Who stand on Zion’s hill! Who bring salvation on their tongues, And words of peace reveal! How charming is their voice! How sweet the tidings are! “Zion, behold thy Savior King; He reigns and triumphs here.” How happy are our ears […]...
- A SIMPLE POEM I want you to continue writing Because I will not always be around With lips that will never touch mine Read your poems out loud So that the words are left engraved On the wall Make me feel your voice rush through me Like a breeze from Oyá I want to hear about Puerto Rico […]...
- Farewell Farewell to thee! but not farewell To all my fondest thoughts of thee: Within my heart they still shall dwell; And they shall cheer and comfort me. O, beautiful, and full of grace! If thou hadst never met mine eye, I had not dreamed a living face Could fancied charms so far outvie. If I […]...
- Willow And I grew up in patterned tranquillity, In the cool nursery of the young century. And the voice of man was not dear to me, But the voice of the wind I could understand. But best of all the silver willow. And obligingly, it lived With me all my life; it’s weeping branches Fanned my […]...
- Sonnet 30 – I see thine image through my tears to-night I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How Refer the cause?-Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow, Perplexed, […]...
- I Like For You To Be Still I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent And you hear me from far away And my voice does not touch you It seems as though your eyes had flown away And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth As all things are filled with my soul […]...
- Lohengrin Back to the mystic shore beyond the main The mystic craft has sped, and left no trace. Ah, nevermore may she behold his face, Nor touch his hand, nor hear his voice again! With hidden front she crouches; all in vain The proffered balm. A vessel nears the place; They bring her young, lost brother; […]...
- 417. Song-Blythe hae I been on yon hill BLYTHE hae I been on yon hill, As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free, As the breeze flew o’er me; Now nae langer sport and play, Mirth or sang can please me; LESLEY is sae fair and coy, Care and anguish seize me. Heavy, heavy is the task, Hopeless love declaring; Trembling, […]...
- TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
- Psalm IV Now I’ll record my secret vision, impossible sight of the face of God: It was no dream, I lay broad waking on a fabulous couch in Harlem Having masturbated for no love, and read half naked an open book of Blake on my lap Lo & behold! I was thoughtless and turned a page and […]...
- Land, Ho! I know ’tis but a loom of land, Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice, I know I cannot hear His voice Upon the shore, nor see Him stand; Yet is it land, ho! land. The land! the land! the lovely land! ‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off-ah, blessиd home! Farewell! farewell! thou […]...
- Elegy Upon Tiger Her dead lady’s joy and comfort, Who departed this life The last day of March, 1727: To the great joy of Bryan That his antagonist is gone. And is poor Tiger laid at last so low? O day of sorrow! – Day of dismal woe! Bloodhounds, or spaniels, lap-dogs, ’tis all one, When Death once […]...
- The doll's wooing The little French doll was a dear little doll Tricked out in the sweetest of dresses; Her eyes were of hue A most delicate blue And dark as the night were her tresses; Her dear little mouth was fluted and red, And this little French doll was so very well bred That whenever accosted her […]...
- Charles Carville's Eyes A melanholy face Charles Carville had, But not so melancholy as it seemed, When once you knew him, for his mouth redeemed His insufficient eyes, forever sad: In them there was no life-glimpse, good or bad, Nor joy nor passion in them ever gleamed; His mouth was all of him that ever beamed, His eyes […]...
- The Poor Old Cannon Upbroke the sun In red-gold foam; Thus spoke the gun At the Soldier’s Home: “Whenever I hear Blue thunder speak My voice sounds clear But little and weak. “And when the proud Young cockerels crow My voice sounds loud, But gentle and low. “When the mocking-bird Prolongs his note I cannot be heard Though I […]...
- Greater Love Red lips are not so red As the stained stones kissed by the English dead. Kindness of wooed and wooer Seems shame to their love pure. O Love, your eyes lose lure When I behold eyes blinded in my stead! Your slender attitude Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed, Rolling and rolling there Where God […]...
- Young Fellow My Lad “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?” “I’m going to join the Colours, Dad; They’re looking for men, they say.” “But you’re only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren’t obliged to go.” “I’m seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know.” * * […]...