Insieme a Miriam sto leggendo questa raccolta di poesie di Whitman.
Commenterò qualcuna che mi piace, mentre Miriam ha promesso di commentarle tutte
Su internet non si trovano i testi in italiano, quindi quando necessario inserirò quello in inglese.
Una che mi è piaciuta molto è "Ringraziamenti di vecchio" (Thanks in old age):

Thanks in old age—thanks ere I go,For health, the midday sun, the impalpable air—for life, mere
life,For precious ever-lingering memories, (of you my mother dear
—you, father—you, brothers, sisters, friends,)
For all my days—not those of peace alone—the days of war the
same,For gentle words, caresses, gifts from foreign lands,For shelter, wine and meat—for sweet appreciation,
(You distant, dim unknown—or young or old—countless, un-specified, readers belov'd,We never met, and ne'er shall meet—and yet our souls embrace, long, close and long;)
For beings, groups, love, deeds, words, books—for colors, forms,For all the brave strong men—devoted, hardy men—who've for-
ward sprung in freedom's help, all years, all lands,
For braver, stronger, more devoted men—(a special laurel ere I
go, to life's war's chosen ones,
The cannoneers of song and thought—the great artillerists—the
foremost leaders, captains of the soul
As soldier from an ended war return'd—As traveler out of
myriads, to the long procession retrospective,Thanks—joyful thanks!—a soldier's, traveler's thanks.

Mi è piaciuta particolarmente la parte evidenziata in grassetto, in cui si descrive il rapporto tra autore e lettore come persone strettamente legate anche se estranee. In generale, la poesia mi sembra un commiato ideale e rappresenti il modo in cui una persona vorrebbe sentirsi nell'anzianità, grata della vita.

Collegata nel tema mi sembra la poesia "Dopo la cena e la conversazione" (After the Supper and Talk), che descrive  l'attaccamento alla vita e il desiderio di vivere quando ormai le ombre della notte si avvicinano.

After the supper and talk—after the day is done,
As a friend from friends his final withdrawal prolonging,
Good-bye and Good-bye with emotional lips repeating,
(So hard for his hand to release those hands—no more will they meet,
No more for communion of sorrow and joy, of old and young,
A far-stretching journey awaits him, to return no more,)
Shunning, postponing severance—seeking to ward off the last word
ever so little,
E'en at the exit-door turning—charges superfluous calling back—
e'en as he descends the steps,
Something to eke out a minute additional—shadows of nightfall deepening,
Farewells, messages lessening—dimmer the forthgoer's visage and form,
Soon to be lost for aye in the darkness—loth, O so loth to depart!
Garrulous to the very last.