I feel that in the longer poems especially one must take Whitman in small doses. Then one can appreciate those moments when his poetry erupts into an incandescent fire. Here's a section of "Song of Myself" which is amazing in its erotic power:
"Still nodding night! Mad naked summer night!
Smile O voluptuous coolbreathed earth!
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Earth of departed sunset! Earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
Far-swooping elbowed earth! Rich apple-blossomed earth!
Smile, for your lover comes!
Prodigal! you have given me love! . . . . therefore I to you give love!
O unspeakable passionate love!"
I think one really has to pause at moments like that!
Last edited by fantasyfan; 02-05-2012 at 06:51 PM.