Poem Walt Whitman

Primeval my Love for the Woman I Love

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Primeval my love for the woman I love,
O bride! O wife! more resistless, more enduring than I can tell, the
thought of you!
Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born,
The ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation,
I ascend–I float in the regions of your love, O man,
O sharer of my roving life.

Proud Music of the Storm
Prayer of Columbus

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