A Clear Midnight. Published January 22, 2018 by suprusr 0 THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, and the stars. Related posts: Song of the Exposition. As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free. Passage to India. Walt Whitman. suprusr Published in Poems
