#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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…
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,…
Now list to my morning’s romanza,… To the cities and farms I sing as… A young man comes to me bearing a… How shall the young man know the w… Tell him to send me the signs. An…
When I heard at the close of the… with plaudits in the capitol, stil… follow’d, And else when I carous’d, or when… was not happy,
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…
As I sit writing here, sick and g… Not my least burden is that dulnes… Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy… May filter in my dally songs.
A child said What is the grass? f… How could I answer the child? I d… I guess it must be the flag of my… Or I guess it is the handkerchief… A scented gift and remembrancer de…
Roots and leaves themselves alone… Scents brought to men and women fr… pond-side, Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fi… than vines,
To-day, from each and all, a breat… To memory of Him—to birth of Him.
With its cloud of skirmishers in a… With now the sound of a single sho… irregular volley, The swarming ranks press on and on… Glittering dimly, toiling under th…
Fast-anchor’d eternal O love! O w… O bride! O wife! more resistless… Then separate, as disembodied or a… Ethereal, the last athletic realit… I ascend, I float in the regions…
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…
Of Equality—as if it harm’d me, g… rights as myself—as if it were not… that others possess the same.
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…
Nations ten thousand years before… thousand years before these States… Garner’d clusters of ages that men… and travel’d their course and pass… What vast-built cities, what order…