Song of the Open Road

[cpzilliacus]

From David Levinson, the Transportationist: Song of the Open Road, quoting Walt Whitman (who very much deserved to have New Jersey Turnpike service plaza named in his honor):

You air that serves me with breath to speak!    
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings, and give them shape!     
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!    
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!    
I think you are latent with unseen existences–you are so dear to me.

You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!    
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!     
You rows of houses! you window-pierc'd façades! you roofs!    
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!    
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!    
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!    
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!     
From all that has been near you, I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me;    
From the living and the dead I think you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

[Alps]

Damn you Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass my ass.

[cpzilliacus]

Damn you Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass my ass.

You know that Whitman got some ink in Looking for America on the New Jersey Turnpike, right?