As for Whitman....

"I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait"
For who am I to argue with the fates
Who might lay like tigers in crouching fury
My hair rising on back and tummy stirring
Though I know not when
I am quite sure
Their Scarlett intent set on suphocating all gold
But what does not kill us...
So I have been told...
And with their vermilion stain still lacing the dawn
They let it bleed sweet halcyon
My memories to collect when I was pure
And more to suffer ...
I am quite sure...
My tremble molified with gift of momentary  bliss
But i dare not grow deaf
And miss their hiss....
The ladies approach like hidden Dragon
And might cut off these solid legs on which I  stand upon
Leaving me to bloody my gilded floor
That was never under me
I am quite sure
While they drain my life I will hold my cross erect
While to their will I will genuflect
As the ladies haunt
I am quite sure
Whatever they desire....
They will certainly collect