#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
O sight of shame, and pain, and do… O fearful thought—a convict Soul! Rang the refrain along the hall, t… Rose to the roof, the vaults of he… Pouring in floods of melody in ton…
O, Death! a black and pierceless… Hangs round thee, and the future s… No eye may see, no mind may grasp That mystery of fate. This braid, which now alternate th…
LONG I thought that knowledge al… but obtain knowledge! Then my lands engrossed me—Lands… southern savannas, engrossed me—Fo… be their orator;
Behold this swarthy face—these gra… This beard—the white wool, unclipt… My brown hands, and the silent man… Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, an… on the lips with robust love,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me; Chant me the poem, it said, ...
I see before me now a traveling ar… Below a fertile valley spread, wit… Behind, the terraced sides of a mo… Broken, with rocks, with clinging… The numerous camp-fires scatter’d…
Upon this scene, this show, Yielded to-day by fashion, learnin… (Nor in caprice alone– some grains… Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from di… As some old tree, or rock or cliff…
Who goes there? hankering, gross,… How is it I extract strength from… What is a man anyhow? what am I?… All I mark as my own you shall of… Else it were time lost listening t…
BATHED in war’s perfume—delicat… (Should the days needing armies, n… O to hear you call the sailors and… beautiful woman! O to hear the tramp, tramp, of a m…
After the supper and talk—after th… As a friend from friends his final… Good-bye and Good-bye with emotio… (So hard for his hand to release t… No more for communion of sorrow an…
Splendor of ended day floating and… Hour prophetic, hour resuming the… Inflating my throat, you divine av… You earth and life till the last r… Open mouth of my soul uttering gla…
These are really the thoughts of a… If they are not yours as much as m… If they are not the riddle and the… If they are not just as close as t… This is the grass that grows where…
I believe a leaf of grass is no le… And the pismire is equally perfect… And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuv… And the running blackberry would a… And the narrowest hinge in my hand…
By broad Potomac’s shore, again o… (Still uttering, still ejaculating… Again old heart so gay, again to y… returning, Again the freshness and the odors,…
DID YOU ask dulcet rhymes from… Did you find what I sang erewhile… to understand? Why I was not singing erewhile fo… understand—nor am I now;