Author Walt Whitman FOR him I sing, I raise the Present on the Past, (As some perennial tree, out of its roots, the present on the past:) With time and space I him dilate--and fuse the immortal laws, To make himself, by them, the law unto himself. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments