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About this Poem 

“Sounds of the Winter” was published in the 2nd Annex: Good-Bye My Fancy section in Whitman’s last edition of Leaves of Grass (1891-1892).

Sounds of the Winter

Sounds of the winter too,
Sunshine upon the mountains—many a distant strain
From cheery railroad train—from nearer field, barn, house
The whispering air—even the mute crops, garner’d apples, corn,
Children’s and women’s tones—rhythm of many a farmer and of
      flail,
And old man’s garrulous lips among the rest, Think not we give
      out yet,
Forth from these snowy hairs we keep up yet the lilt.

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

Born on May 31, 1819, Walt Whitman is the author of Leaves of Grass and, along with Emily Dickinson, is considered one of the architects of a uniquely American poetic voice. 

by this poet

poem

I

I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this
poem
Ah, not this marble, dead and cold:  
Far from its base and shaft expanding—the round zones circling, 
         comprehending, 
 
Thou, Washington, art all the world's, the continents' entire— 
         not yours alone, America, 
 
Europe's as well, in every part, castle of lord or laborer's cot,  
Or frozen
poem

1

An old man bending I come among new faces,
Years looking backward resuming in answer to children,
Come tell us old man, as from young men and maidens that love me,
(Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war,
But soon my fingers fail'd me, my face