Spring must come . . . soon. Walt agrees!

I'm ready for spring.  I'm ready for cold weather to go away.  I want to feel warm sun on my face.  I want to drive a car that stays somewhat clean for more than a day.  I want to spend less time tuning my students' string instruments.

Spring must come . . . soon.  

Today, I read a few forgotten poems by Walt Whitman.  As a former English major, I am disappointed that I had forgotten some of his poems.  His writing is almost aural instead of visual, even though most writers try to paint visual pictures with words.  The words that he chooses create vivid sound . . . almost more than images.  Consider this example . . . doesn't it make you hear the city traffic of your favorite city while listening to a lawyer performing arrogantly for the jury and judge . . . Walt sure loved to exclaim (did anyone use as many exclamation points as he).  What an American treasure!  

   Beat!  beat! drums!--blow!  bugles! blow!

   Over the traffic of cities--over the rumble of wheels in the streets;

   Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses?  no sleepers must sleep in those beds,

   No bargainers' bargains by day--no brokers or  speculators--would they continue?

   Would the talkers be talking?  would the singer attempt to sing?

   Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?

   Then rattle quicker, heavier drums--you bugles wilder blow.