#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Far back, related on my mother’s s… Old Salt Kossabone, I’ll tell yo… (Had been a sailor all his life—wa… grandchild, Jenny; House on a hill, with view of bay…
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…
O take my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights… Such join’d unended links, each ho… Each answering all—each sharing th… What widens within you, Walt Whit…
Somehow I cannot let it go yet, f… Let it remain back there on its na… With pink, blue, yellow, all blanc… One wither’d rose put years ago fo… But I do not forget thee. Hast th…
BATHED in war’s perfume—delicat… O to hear you call the sailors and… a beautiful woman! O to hear the tramp, tramp, of a m… O the ships they arm with joy!
May-be one is now reading this who… life, Or may-be a stranger is reading th… Or may-be one who meets all my gra… derision,
O A new song, a free song, Flapping, flapping, flapping, flap… By the wind’s voice and that of th… By the banner’s voice and child’s… Low on the ground and high in the…
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,
Poets to come! orators, singers, m… Not to-day is to justify me, and a… But you, a new brood, native, athl… Arouse! Arouse—for you must justi… I myself but write one or two indi…
O living always, always dying! O the burials of me past and prese… O me while I stride ahead, materi… O me, what I was for years, now d… O to disengage myself from those c…
I saw old General at bay, (Old as he was, his gray eyes yet… His small force was now completely… He call’d for volunteers to run th… I saw a hundred and more step fort…
There is that in me’I do not kn… Wrench’d and sweaty’calm and coo… I sleep’I sleep long. I do not know it’it is without n… It is not in any dictionary, utter…
Ages and ages returning at interva… Undestroy’d, wandering immortal, Lusty, phallic, with the potent or… I, chanter of Adamic songs, Through the new garden the West,…
Spontaneous me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun,… The arm of my friend hanging idly… The hill-side whiten’d with blosso… The same, late in autumn—the hues…
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;