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As At Thy Portals Also Death.

 AS at thy portals also death, 
Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, 
To memories of my mother, to the divine blending, maternity, 
To her, buried and gone, yet buried not, gone not from me, 
(I see again the calm benignant face fresh and beautiful still,
I sit by the form in the coffin, 
I kiss and kiss convulsively again the sweet old lips, the cheeks, the closed eyes in the
 coffin;) 
To her, the ideal woman, practical, spiritual, of all of earth, life, love, to me the
 best, 
I grave a monumental line, before I go, amid these songs, 
And set a tombstone here.

by Walt Whitman
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