Walt Whitman’s handwritten poem “As of Forms”. The poem reads:
Their genesis, all genesis,
They lost, all lost — for they include all.
The earth and everything in it.
The wave, the snake, the babe, the landscape, the human head,
Things, faces, reminiscences, presences, conditions, thoughts — tally and make definite
a divine indistinct spiritual delight in the Soul.
Of the arts, as music, poems, architecture, outlines, and the rest,
they are in their way to provoke this delight out of the soul,
They are to seek it where it waits —
for I see that it always patiently waits.
Have you sought the inkling ?
Have you wandered after the meanings of the earth? You need not wander;
Behold those forms.