A MASK--a perpetual natural disguiser of herself,
Concealing her face, concealing her form,
Changes and transformations every hour, every moment,
Falling upon her even when she sleeps.
More verses by Walt Whitman
- To Oratists
- The Return Of The Heroes
- Thick-Sprinkled Bunting
- Virgil Strange I Kept On The Field
- We Two-How Long We Were Fool'D