There was a child went forth – Walt Whitman
“The hurrying tumbling waves, quick broken crests, slapping. The strata of color’d clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary by itself – the spread of purity it lies motionless in. The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud; these became part of that child who went forth everyday, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.”
Wishing each and everyone one of you a robust and peripatetic New Year. Have a safe trip.
Extract fromLeaves of Grass, Walt Whitman 1855 A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, Volume I: Poems 1855-1856 Sculley Bradley, Blodgett H. W et al, eds. NY: New York University Press, 1980.