#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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 star of France, The brightness of thy hope and str… Like some proud ship that led the… Beseems to-day a wreck driven by t… And ‘mid its teeming madden’d half…
Look down fair moon and bathe this… Pour softly down night’s nimbus fl… On the dead on their backs with ar… Pour down your unstinted nimbus sa…
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…
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,
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…
I sit and look out upon all the so… oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from… themselves, remorseful after deeds… I see, in low life, the mother mis…
Not meagre, latent boughs alone,… talons,) But haply for some sunny day (who… summer—bursting forth, To verdant leaves, or sheltering s…
Not youth pertains to me, Nor delicatesse, I cannot beguile… Awkward in the parlor, neither a d… In the learn’d coterie sitting con… to me,
When his hour for death had come, He slowly rais’d himself from the… Drew on his war-dress, shirt, legg… waist, Call’d for vermilion paint (his lo…
These I singing in spring collect… (For who but I should understand… And who but I should be the poet… Collecting I traverse the garden… Now along the pond-side, now wadin…
In a far-away northern county in t… Lives my farmer friend, the theme… There they bring him the three-yea… break them, He will take the wildest steer in…
Suddenly out of its stale and drow… Like lightning it le’pt forth half… Its feet upon the ashes and the ra… O hope and faith! O aching close of exiled patriots’…
NOW I make a leaf of Voices—for… they are, And I have found that no word spo… O what is it in me that makes me t… Surely, whoever speaks to me in th…
Others may praise what they like; But I, from the banks of the runn… aught else, Till it has well inhaled the atmos… prairie-scent,