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To Him That Was Crucified

MY spirit to yours, dear brother;

Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you;

I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others                   also I specify you with joy,

O my comrade, to salute you, and to salutethose who are with you, before and since—and those to come                   also,

That we all labor together, transmitting the same charge and                   succession;

We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of times;

We, enclosers of all continents, all castes—allowers of all                   theologies,

Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,

We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the                  disputers, nor any thing that is asserted;

We hear the bawling and din—we are reach'd at by divisions,                  jealousies, recriminations on every side,

They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my comrade,

Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and                 down, till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the                 diverse eras,

Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages                 to come, may prove brethren and lovers, as we are.

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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman (May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892) was an American poet, essayist, and journalist. A humanist, he was a part of the transition between…
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