Walt Whitman, Continuities

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...