 | Leaves of grass. (1861-1861) |  |
312
[10. Inquiring, tireless, seeking that yet unfound]
Inquiring, tireless, seeking that yet unfound,I, a child, very old, over waves, toward the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western Sea—having arrived at last where I am—the circle almost circled;
For coming westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia—from the north—from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south—from the flowery peninsulas, and the spice islands,
Now I face the old home again—looking over to it, joyous, as after long travel, growth, and sleep;
But where is what I started for, so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?
| Leaves of grass. (1861-1861) | |