Not meagre, latent boughs alone, O songs! (scaly and bare, like eagles’ talons,)
But haply for some sunny day (who knows?) some future spring, some summer—bursting forth,
To verdant leaves, or sheltering shade—to nourishing fruit,
Apples and grapes—the stalwart limbs of trees emerging—the fresh, free, open air,
And love and faith, like scented roses blooming.
Public-domain source text
Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone
by Walt Whitman
From Standard Ebooks · standardebooks/walt-whitman_leaves-of-grass
Source record
This is a source transcription from Standard Ebooks, published in Past Poetry’s public-domain archive without line-by-line editorial notes. Public-domain source edition. Availability can vary by territory.
View the source edition →