I see before me now a traveling army halting,
Below a fertile valley spread, with barns and the orchards of summer,
Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt, in places rising high,
Broken, with rocks, with clinging cedars, with tall shapes dingily seen,
The numerous camp-fires scatter’d near and far, some away up on the mountain,
The shadowy forms of men and horses, looming, large-sized,flickering,
And over all the sky-the sky! far, far out of reach, studded,
breaking out, the eternal stars.
by: Walt Whitman
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(Early American Poets) (Poem of the Day)