#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
My city’s fit and noble name resum… Choice aboriginal name, with marve… A rocky founded island—shores wher… going, hurrying sea waves.
A call in the midst of the crowd, My own voice, orotund sweeping and… Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women,… Now the performer launches his ner…
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;
The butcher-boy puts off his killi… I loiter enjoying his repartee and… Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy… Each has his main-sledge, they are… From the cinder-strew’d threshold…
As at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illim… To memories of my mother, to the d… To her, buried and gone, yet burie… (I see again the calm benignant fa…
ONE song, America, before I go, I’d sing, o’er all the rest, with… For thee—the Future. I’d sow a seed for thee of endless… I’d fashion thy Ensemble, includi…
Many things to absorb I teach to… Yet if blood like mine circle not… If you be not silently selected by…
To-day, from each and all, a breat… To memory of Him—to birth of Him.
Come, said my Soul Such verses for my Body let us wr… That should I after death invisib… Or, long, long hence, in other sph… There to some group of mates the c…
The soft voluptuous opiate shades, The sun just gone, the eager light… dispell’d,) A haze—nirwana—rest and night—obli…
Give me the splendid silent sun wi… Give me autumnal fruit ripe and re… Give me a field where the unmow’d… Give me an arbor, give me the trel… Give me fresh corn and wheat, give…
Tears! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears; On the white shore dripping, dripp… Tears—not a star shining—all dark… Moist tears from the eyes of a muf…
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;
I think I could turn and live wit… I stand and look at them long and… They do not sweat and whine about… They do not lie awake in the dark… They do not make me sick discussin…
FROM my last years, last thought… Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and… Through moisture of Ohio, prairie… California air, For Time to germinate fully.