WALT WHITMAN

Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,No birth, identity, form – no object of the world.Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.Ample are time and space – ample the fields of Nature.The body, sluggish, aged, cold – the embers left from earlier fires,The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;To frozen clods ever the spring's invisible law returns,With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.