Miracles
Walt Whitman
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dark my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with anyone I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with anyone I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with
the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
Walt Whitman was one of the great American poets. He spent most of his life living in Long Island, NY. This is one of my favorite pieces of Whitman's writing. I love that he takes the time to acknowledge hwo incredible and unbelievable every aspect of life is. When I read "Miracles," it makes immediately begin to actively appreciate just existing more than I was the second before I started reading the poem. This is a hugely important thing to do in your writing. On a general level, Whitman is doing an amazing job of making you feel the message he is trying to convey and I think that should be the goal of every writer. "Miracles," inspires me to be a better writer, more aware and a mo
Walt Whitman
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dark my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with anyone I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with anyone I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with
the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
Walt Whitman was one of the great American poets. He spent most of his life living in Long Island, NY. This is one of my favorite pieces of Whitman's writing. I love that he takes the time to acknowledge hwo incredible and unbelievable every aspect of life is. When I read "Miracles," it makes immediately begin to actively appreciate just existing more than I was the second before I started reading the poem. This is a hugely important thing to do in your writing. On a general level, Whitman is doing an amazing job of making you feel the message he is trying to convey and I think that should be the goal of every writer. "Miracles," inspires me to be a better writer, more aware and a mo