Leaves of Grass

As They Draw to a Close

  As they draw to a close,
  Of what underlies the precedent songs—of my aims in them,
  Of the seed I have sought to plant in them,
  Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them,
  (For them, for them have I lived, in them my work is done,)
  Of many an aspiration fond, of many a dream and plan;
  Through Space and Time fused in a chant, and the flowing eternal identity,
  To Nature encompassing these, encompassing God—to the joyous,
      electric all,
  To the sense of Death, and accepting exulting in Death in its turn
      the same as life,
  The entrance of man to sing;
  To compact you, ye parted, diverse lives,
  To put rapport the mountains and rocks and streams,
  And the winds of the north, and the forests of oak and pine,
  With you O soul.