I see before me now a traveling army halting,
Below a fertile valley spread, with barns and the orchards of summer,
Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt, in places rising high,
Broken, with rocks, with clinging cedars, with tall shapes dingily seen,
The numerous camp-fires scatter’d near and far, some away up on the mountain,
The shadowy forms of men and horses, looming, large-sized, flickering,
And all over the sky–the sky! far, far out of reach, studded, breaking out,
the eternal stars.
Tags American Poets Best Poems Best Poetry Best Walt Whitman Poems Classic Poetry Poems Poetry Walt Whitman Walt Whitman Poems Walt Whitman Poetry