Sequel to Drum-Taps
#AmericanWriters
There was a child went forth every… And the first object he look’d upo… And that object became part of him… Or for many years or stretching cy… The early lilacs became part of th…
O MATER! O fils! O brood continental! O flowers of the prairies! O space boundless! O hum of might… O you teeming cities! O so invinc…
Sauntering the pavement or riding… Faces of friendship, precision, ca… The spiritual-prescient face, the… The face of the singing of music,… judges broad at the back-top,
I HEAR you have been asking for… sent the new race, our self-poised… Therefore I send you my poems, th… them what you wanted.
In a little house keep I pictures… It is round, it is only a few inch… Yet behold, it has room for all th… Here the tableaus of life, and her… Here, do you know this? this is ci…
Come up from the fields father, he… And come to the front door mother,… Lo, ’tis autumn, Lo, where the trees, deeper green,… Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages…
IN clouds descending, in midnight… Of the look at first of the mortal… Of the dead on their backs, with a… I dream, I dream, I dream. Of scenes of nature, the fields an…
(“The Seventeenth—the finest Regi… Through the soft evening air enwin… Rocks, woods, fort, cannon, pacing… In dulcet streams, in flutes’ and… Electric, pensive, turbulent, arti…
OR, from that Sea of Time, Spray, blown by the wind—a double… (O little shells, so curious-convo… Yet will you not, to the tympans o… Murmurs and echoes still bring up—…
A march in the ranks hard-prest, a… A route through a heavy wood with… Our army foil’d with loss severe,… Till after midnight glimmer upon u… We come to an open space in the wo…
Of the terrible doubt of appearanc… Of the uncertainty after all—that… That may-be reliance and hope are… That may-be identity beyond the gr… May-be the things I perceive—the…
A song of the rolling earth, and o… Were you thinking that those were… curves, angles, dots? No, those are not the words, the s… and sea,
Only themselves understand themsel… As souls only understand souls.
A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promont… Mark’d how to explore the vacant v… It launch’d forth filament, filame… Ever unreeling them, ever tireless…
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…