#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
I hear America singing, the varie… Those of mechanics, each one singi… The carpenter singing his as he me… The mason singing his as he makes… The boatman singing what belongs t…
Weapon shapely, naked, wan, Head from the mother’s bowels draw… Wooded flesh and metal bone, limb… Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown,… Resting the grass amid and upon,
Thee for my recitative, Thee in the driving storm even as… Thee in thy panoply, thy measur’d… Thy black cylindric body, golden b… Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel…
By the bivouac’s fitful flame, A procession winding around me, so… first I note, The tents of the sleeping army, th… The darkness lit by spots of kindl…
Of Equality—as if it harm’d me, g… rights as myself—as if it were not… that others possess the same.
Race of veterans—race of victors! Race of the soil, ready for confli… (No more credulity’s race, abiding… Race henceforth owning no law but… Race of passion and the storm.
Have you learn’d lessons only of t… tender with you, and stood aside f… Have you not learn’d great lessons… themselves against you? or who tre… the passage with you?
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…
AS a strong bird on pinions free, Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenw… Such be the thought I’d think to—… Such be the recitative I’d bring… The conceits of the poets of other…
Come, I will make the continent i… 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…
SHUT not your doors to me, proud… For that which was lacking among y… most, I bring; A book I have made for your dear… And for you, O soul of man, and y…
Hark, some wild trumpeter, some st… Hovering unseen in air, vibrates c… I hear thee trumpeter, listening a… Now pouring, whirling like a tempe… Now low, subdued, now in the dista…
I see the sleeping babe, nestling… mother; The sleeping mother and babe—hush’… long and long.
Darest thou now O soul, Walk out with me toward the unknow… Where neither ground is for the fe… No map there, nor guide, Nor voice sounding, nor touch of h…
Heave the anchor short! Raise main-sail and jib—steer fort… O little white-hull’d sloop, now s… (I will not call it our concluding… But outset and sure entrance to th…