Leaves and Rivers

During a recent visit to Kennesaw State University, I found an old copy of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass at the campus library. Though his work often appears within the syllabus of many lit courses, I had never really taken much of an interest. As with many great authors, it's often not until much later in life, when one isn't being forced to read something for school, that any interest takes hold. Alas, I wanted to share an excerpt from one of his poems that caught my attention. I imagine many of us can identify with its sentiments: "From pent-up aching rivers, From that of myself without which I were nothing, From what I am determined to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men... From the hungry gnaw that eats me night and day, From native moments, from bashful pains, singing them, Seeking something yet unfound though I have diligently sought it many a long year, Singing the true song of the soul fitful at random... From plenty of persons near and yet the right person not near... From the long sustained kiss... From the bedfellow's embrace in the night... From the act-poems of eyes, hands, hips... From the cling of a trembling arm... From side by side the pliant coverlet off-throwing, From the one so unwilling to have me leave, and me just as unwilling to leave... From the hour of shining stars and dropping dews... From the night a moment I emerging flitting out, Celebrate you(r) act divine and you(r) children prepared for, And you(r) stalwart loins. - by Walt Whitman, excerpt taken "From Pent-up Aching Rivers"