Here you will find the Poem Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours of poet Walt Whitman
YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also; Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles! Earth to a chamber of mourning turns--I hear the o'erweening, mocking voice, Matter is conqueror--matter, triumphant only, continues onward. Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain, The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding--tell me my destination. I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you, I approach, hear, behold--the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes, your mute inquiry, 10 Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me: Old age, alarm'd, uncertain--A young woman's voice, appealing to me for comfort; A young man's voice, Shall I not escape?