Walt Whitman: Shut Not Your Doors

Shut Not Your Doors

Shut not your doors to me proud libraries, For that which was lacking on all your well-fill'd shelves, yet     needed most, I bring, Forth from the war emerging, a book I have made, The words of my book nothing, the drift of it every thing, A book separate, not link'd with the rest nor felt by the intellect, But you ye untold latencies will thrill to every page.