Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.
327. Two Rivulets
T
Two blended, parallel, strolling tides,
Companions, travelers, gossiping as they journey.
These ripples, passing surges, streams of Death and Life,
Object and Subject hurrying, whirling by,
The Real and Ideal,
(Strands of a Trio twining, Present, Future, Past.)
In I myself—in all the World—these ripples flow,
All, all, toward the mystic Ocean tending.
Your breast so broad, with open arms, O firm, expanded shore!)