English poetry

Poems in English

Quicksand Years

QUICKSAND years that whirl me I know not whither,
Your schemes, politics, fail-lines give way-substances mock and elude me;
Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess’d Soul, eludes not;
One’s-self must never give way-that is the final substance-that out of all
Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life-what at last finally remains?
When shows break up, what but One’s-Self is sure?

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

Poem Quicksand Years - Walt Whitman