Oh how the immortal Phantoms crowd around me!
What charm thy music works!
I see the vast alembic ever working
I see and know the flames that heat the world
The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers
So blissful happy some, and some so silent, dark and nigh to death
Love, that is all the earth to lovers
Love-that mocks time and space
Love that is day and night
Love that is sun, moon, and stars
Love that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume
No other words but words of love
No other thoughts but love tonight
from The Mystic Trumpeter
Walt Whitman