#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Scented herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write,… Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing… Perennial roots, tall leaves—O th… delicate leaves,
Soon shall the winter’s foil be he… Soon shall these icy ligatures unb… And air, soil, wave, suffused shal… From these dead clods and chills a… Thine eyes, ears—all thy best attr…
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…
Passing stranger! you do not know… You must be he I was seeking, or… I have somewhere surely lived a li… All is recall’d as we flit by each… You grew up with me, were a boy wi…
NOT my enemies ever invade me—no… them I fear; But the lovers I recklessly love—… Lo! me, ever open and helpless, be… Utterly abject, grovelling on the…
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 me? Did you seek the civilian’s peacef… Did you find what I sang erewhile… Why I was not singing erewhile fo… am I now;
A Glimpse, through an interstice… Of a crowd of workmen and drivers… late of a winter night—And I unre… Of a youth who loves me, and whom… seating himself near, that he may…
Spirit whose work is done—spirit o… Ere departing fade from my eyes yo… Spirit of gloomiest fears and doub… Spirit of many a solemn day and ma… That with muttering voice through…
Good-bye my fancy—(I had a word t… But ’tis not quite the time—The b… Is when its proper place arrives—a… I keep mine till the last.)
I SAY whatever tastes sweet to t… —That is finally right. I SAY the human shape or face is… never be made ridiculous; I say for ornaments nothing outré…
O BITTER sprig! Confession spr… In the bouquet I give you place a… Proceeding no further till, humble… I give fair warning, once for all. I own that I have been sly, thiev…
I am of old and young, of the fool… Regardless of others, ever regardf… Maternal as well as paternal, a ch… Stuff’d with the stuff that is coa… One of the Nation of many nations…
A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets… A song of farms—a song of the soil… A song with the smell of sun-dried… handle the pitch-fork;
Be composed—be at ease with me—I… Not till the sun excludes you, do… Not till the waters refuse to glis… My girl, I appoint with you an ap… charge you that you make preparati…