Walt Whitman

Spirit That Form’d This Scene

SPIRIT that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks, These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness, These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own, I know thee, savage spirit—we have communed together, Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was’t charged against my chants they had forgotten art? To fuse within themselves its rules precise and delicatesse? The lyrist’s measur’d beat, the wrought-out temple’s grace—column and polish’d arch forgot? But thou that revelest here—spirit that form’d this scene, They have remember’d thee.SPIRIT that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks, These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness, These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own, I know thee, savage spirit—we have communed together, Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was’t charged against my chants they had forgotten art? To fuse within themselves its rules precise and delicatesse? The lyrist’s measur’d beat, the wrought-out temple’s grace—column and polish’d arch forgot? But thou that revelest here—spirit that form’d this scene, They have remember’d thee.

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