As in a swoon, one instant,
Another sun, ineffable, full dazzles me,
And all the orbs I knew, and brighter, unknown orbs,
One instant of the future land, Heaven's land.
I cannot be Awake, for nothing looks to me as it did before,
Or else I am awake for the first time, and all before has been a mean sleep.
When I try to tell the best I find, I cannot;
My tongue is ineffectual, on its pivots,
My breath will not be obedient to its organs,
I become a dumb man.
—Whitman
