English poem

Of Many a Smutch’d Deed Reminiscent

Full of wickedness, I—of many a smutch’d deed reminiscent—of worse deeds capable, Yet I look composedly upon nature, drink day and night the joys of life, and await death with perfect equanimity, Because of my tender and boundless love for him I love and because of his boundless love for me.

More by Walt Whitman

O sun and moon and all you stars! Sirius and Jupiter!
O Sun of Real Peace.
O You Whom I Often And Silently Come
Of Him I Love Day And Night
Of That Blithe Throat of Thine
Of The Visage Of Things
Offerings
Old Age's Lambent Peaks

All 594 poems by Walt Whitman