From My Last Years Lyrics & Chords By Walt Whitman

If I were tickled by the rub of love, A rooking girl who stole me for her side, Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string, If the red tickle as the cattle calve ...read more

Do not go gentle into that good night Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light Though wise men at their end know dark is right ...read more

When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay ...read more

When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay ...read more

The tombstone told when she died. Her two surnames stopped me still. A virgin married at rest. She married in this pouring place, That I struck one day by luck, Before I...read more