#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Of that blithe throat of thine fro… I’ll mind the lesson, solitary bir… E’en the profoundest chill, as now… Old age land-lock’d within its win… These snowy hairs, my feeble arm,…
As they draw to a close, Of what underlies the precedent so… Of the seed I have sought to plan… Of joy, sweet joy, through many a… (For them, for them have I lived,…
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…
By blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these warlike days… that return no more, A Phantom gigantic superb, with s… Chant me the poem, it said, that c…
(To U. S. G. return’d from his W… What best I see in thee, Is not that where thou mov’st down… Ever undimm’d by time shoots warli… Or that thou sat’st where Washing…
Passage O soul to India! Eclaircise the myths Asiatic, the… Not you alone, proud truths of the… Nor you alone, ye facts of modern… But myths and fables of eld, Asia…
While my wife at my side lies slum… And my head on the pillow rests at… And through the stillness, through… of my infant, There in the room as I wake from…
Earth, round, rolling, compact—sun… words to be said; Watery, vegetable, sauroid advance… of the future, Behold! these are vast words to be…
The prairie-grass dividing—its spe… I demand of it the spiritual corre… Demand the most copious and close… Demand the blades to rise of words… Those of the open atmosphere, coar…
RESPONDEZ! Respondez! Let every one answer! let those wh… let none evade! (How much longer must we go on wit… and sneaking?
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, ...
With all thy gifts America, Standing secure, rapidly tending,… Power, wealth, extent, vouchsafed… vouchsafed to thee, What if one gift thou lackest? (th…
The spotted hawk swoops by and acc… I too am not a bit tamed, I too a… I sound my barbaric yawp over the… The last scud of day holds back fo… It flings my likeness after the re…
I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of… pass’d the church, Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the… stretch’d sighs up above so mournf… I heard the perfect Italian tenor…
When his hour for death had come, He slowly rais’d himself from the… Drew on his war-dress, shirt, legg… waist, Call’d for vermilion paint (his lo…