#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Tears! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears; On the white shore dripping, dripp… Tears—not a star shining—all dark… Moist tears from the eyes of a muf…
A thousand perfect men and women a… Around each gathers a cluster of f… with offerings.
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…
Thanks in old age—thanks ere I go… For health, the midday sun, the im… For precious ever-lingering memori… father—you, brothers, sisters, fri… For all my days—not those of peace…
One hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in… What do my shouts amid lightnings… O to drink the mystic deliria deep…
Endless unfolding of words of ages… And mine a word of the modern, the… A word of the faith that never bal… Here or henceforward it is all the… It alone is without flaw, it alone…
That which eludes this verse and a… Unheard by sharpest ear, unform’d… Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness n… And yet the pulse of every heart a… Which you and I and all pursuing…
O you whom I often and silently c… with you; As I walk by your side, or sit ne… you, Little you know the subtle electri…
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…
To those who’ve fail’d, in aspirat… To unnam’d soldiers fallen in fron… To calm, devoted engineers—to over… their ships, To many a lofty song and picture w…
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…
Small the theme of my Chant, yet… simple, separate person. That, for… Man’s physiology complete, from to… alone, nor brain alone, is worthy… Muse;—I say the Form complete is…
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhat… Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating… No sentimentalist, no stander abov… No more modest than immodest. Unscrew the locks from the doors!
While not the past forgetting, To-day, at least, contention sunk… For sign reciprocal our Northern,… Lay on the graves of all dead sold… (Nor for the past alone—for meanin…
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…