Song of Myself, 51 by Walt Whitman - Poems | Academy of American Poets

The past and present wilt—I have fill'd them, emptied them.

Song of Myself, 51 Add to anthology × Walt Whitman 1819 - 1892 The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them. And proceed to fill my next fold of the future. Listener up there! what have you to confide to me? Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab. Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper? Who wishes

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