The Poetry Corner

O Living Always - Always Dying

By Walt Whitman

O living always - always dying! O the burials of me, past and present! O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever! O me, what I was for years, now dead, (I lament not - I am content;) O to disengage myself from those corpses of me, which I turn and look at, where I cast them! To pass on, (O living! always living!) and leave the corpses behind!