#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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…
As I walk these broad majestic da… (For the war, the struggle of bloo… Against vast odds erewhile having… Now thou stridest on, yet perhaps… Perhaps to engage in time in still…
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…
Space and Time! now I see it is t… What I guess’d when I loaf’d on t… What I guess’d while I lay alone… And again as I walk’d the beach u… My ties and ballasts leave me, my…
(Written in Platte Canyon, Color… Spirit that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and… These reckless heaven-ambitious pe… These gorges, turbulent-clear stre…
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…
Unseen buds, infinite, hidden well… Under the snow and ice, under the… Like babes in wombs, latent, folde… Billions of billions, and trillion… (On earth and in the sea—the unive…
Thick-sprinkled bunting! flag of s… Long yet your road, fateful flag—l… bloody death, For the prize I see at issue at l… All its ships and shores I see in…
No labor-saving machine, Nor discovery have I made; Nor will I be able to leave behin… hospital or library, Nor reminiscence of any deed of co…
If I should need to name, O West… and show, ’Twould not be you, Niagara—nor y… huge rifts of canyons, Colorado, Nor you, Yosemite—nor Yellowstone…
(Volunteer of 1861-2, at Washingt… Centenarian.) Give me your hand old Revolutiona… The hill-top is nigh, but a few st… Up the path you have follow’d me w…
Ashes of soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring… The war resumes, again to my sense… And again the advance of the armie… Noiseless as mists and vapors,
Year of meteors! brooding year! I would bind in words retrospectiv… I would sing your contest for the… I would sing how an old man, tall,… scaffold in Virginia,
That shadow my likeness that goes… chattering, chaffering, How often I find myself standing… How often I question and doubt wh… But among my lovers and caroling t…
In some unused lagoon, some namele… On sluggish, lonesome waters, anch… An old, dismasted, gray and batter… After free voyages to all the seas… tight,