Walt Whitman — When the Full-Grown Poet Came

When the full-grown poet came, Out spake pleased Nature (the round impassive globe, with all its          shows of day and night,) saying, He is mine; But out spake too the Soul of man, proud, jealous and unreconciled,         Nay he is mine alone; —Then the full-grown poet stood between the two, and took each         by the hand; And to-day and ever so stands, as blender, uniter, tightly holding hands, Which he will never release until he reconciles the two, And wholly and joyously blends them.