Walt Whitman: Sounds of the Winter

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, An 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.