#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Recorders ages hence! Come, I will take you down undern… tell you what to say of me; Publish my name and hang up my pic… lover,
The past and present wilt’I hav… And proceed to fill my next fold o… Listener up there! what have you t… Look in my face while I snuff the… (Talk honestly, no one else hears…
Stranger! if you, passing, meet me… speak to me, why should you not sp… And why should I not speak to you…
And who art thou? said I to the s… Which, strange to tell, gave me an… I am the Poem of Earth, said the… Eternal I rise impalpable out of… Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely…
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…
Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else b… Whether I walk the streets of Man… Or dart my sight over the roofs of… Or wade with naked feet along the…
O living always, always dying! O the burials of me past and prese… O me while I stride ahead, materi… O me, what I was for years, now d… O to disengage myself from those c…
The spotted hawk swoops by and acc… I too am not a bit tamed, I too a… I sound my barbaric yawp over the… The last scud of day holds back fo… It flings my likeness after the re…
Alone far in the wilds and mountai… Wandering amazed at my own lightne… In the late afternoon choosing a s… Kindling a fire and broiling the f… Falling asleep on the gather’d lea…
What am I, after all, but a child… name? repeating it over and over; I stand apart to hear—it never tir… To you, your name also; Did you think there was nothing bu…
Lover divine and perfect Comrade, Waiting content, invisible yet, bu… Be thou my God. Thou, thou, the Ideal Man, Fair, able, beautiful, content, an…
Out from behind this bending rough… These lights and shades, this dram… This common curtain of the face co… you, in each for each, (Tragedies, sorrows, laughter, tea…
Full of life, now, compact, visibl… I, forty years old the Eighty-thi… To one a century hence, or any num… To you, yet unborn, these, seeking… When you read these, I, that was…
Of these years I sing, How they pass and have pass’d thro… parturitions, How America illustrates birth, mu… fulfilment, the absolute success,…
I see the sleeping babe, nestling… mother; The sleeping mother and babe—hush’… long and long.