Walt Whitman – 1819-1892

The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them,
emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay
only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait
on the door-slab.

Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest
be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove
already too late?