In Paths Untrodden


  IN paths untrodden,
  In the growth by margins of pond-waters,
  Escaped from the life that exhibits itself,
  From all the standards hitherto publish'd--from the pleasures,
  profits, eruditions, conformities,
  Which too long I was offering to feed my soul;
  Clear to me, now, standards not yet publish'd--clear to me that my
  Soul,
  That the Soul of the man I speak for, feeds, rejoices most in
  comrades;
  Here, by myself, away from the clank of the world,
  Tallying and talk'd to here by tongues aromatic,
  No longer abash'd--for in this secluded spot I can respond as I would
  not dare elsewhere, 10
  Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, yet contains
  all the rest,
  Resolv'd to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attachment,
  Projecting them along that substantial life,
  Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love,
  Afternoon, this delicious Ninth-month, in my forty-first year,
  I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men,
  To tell the secret of my nights and days,
  To celebrate the need of comrades.

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Walt Whitman

Walter "Walt" Whitman was an American poet, essayist and journalist. more…

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"In Paths Untrodden" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 19 Jan. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/38045/in-paths-untrodden>.

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