from Leaves of Grass (1892)
by Walt Whitman
Sounds of the winter too,
Sunshine upon the mountains -- many a distant strain
From cheery railroad train -- from nearer field, barn, house,
The whispering air -- even the mute crops, garner'd apples, corn,
Children's and women's tones -- rhythm of many a farmer and of flail,
An old man's garrulous lips among the rest, Think not we give out yet,
Forth from these snowy hairs we keep up yet the lilt.
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
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