*Unseen Buds*
by Walt Whitman
 
Unseen buds, infinite, hidden well,
Under the snow and ice, under the darkness, in every square or cubic inch,
 
Germinal, exquisite, in delicate lace, microscopic, unborn,
Like babes in wombs, latent, folded, compact, sleeping;
Billions of billions, and trillions of trillions of them waiting,
(On earth and in the sea--the universe--the stars there in the heavens,)
 
Urging slowly, surely forward, forming endless,
And waiting ever more, forever more behind.
unseen buds
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unseen buds

Waiting for Spring is somehow ingrained in human nature with all this feeling of joyful rebirth, untamed vitality and fleeting beauty just about Read More

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