#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
When lilacs last in the dooryard b… And the great star early droop’d i… I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn wit… Ever-returning spring, trinity sur… Lilac blooming perennial and droop…
COME, I will make the continent… I will make the most splendid race… I will make divine magnetic lands, With the love of comrades, With the life-long love of comrade…
From all the rest I single out yo… You are to die—let others tell you… I am exact and merciless, but I l… Softly I lay my right hand upon y… I do not argue, I bend my head cl…
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins <… O drops of me! trickle, slow drops… Candid, from me falling—drip, blee… From wounds made to free you whenc… From my face—from my forehead and…
On my northwest coast in the midst… fishermen’s group stands watching; Out on the lake, expanding before… spearing salmon; The canoe, a dim and shadowy thing…
(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…
America always! Always our own feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula!… Louisiana! Always the cotton—fiel… Always California’s golden hills…
Still though the one I sing, (One, yet of contradictions made,)… I leave in him revolt, (O latent… indispensable fire!)
You lingering sparse leaves of me… And I some well-shorn tree of fie… You tokens diminute and lorn—(not… clover-bloom—no grain of August no… You pallid banner-staves—you penna…
Hush’d be the camps to-day, And soldiers let us drape our war-… And each with musing soul retire t… Our dear commander’s death. No more for him life’s stormy conf…
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…
From far Dakota’s canyons, Lands of the wild ravine, the dusk… Haply to-day a mournful wall, hapl… The battle-bulletin, The Indian ambuscade, the craft,…
Pensive and faltering, The words the Dead I write, For living are the Dead, (Haply the only living, only real, And I the apparition, I the spect…
Proud music of the storm, Blast that careers so free, whistl… Strong hum of forest tree-tops—win… Personified dim shapes—you hidden… You serenades of phantoms with ins…
With husky-haughty lips, O sea! Where day and night I wend thy su… Imaging to my sense thy varied str… (I see and plainly list thy talk a… Thy troops of white-maned racers r…