#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Would you hear of an old-time sea-… Would you learn who won by the lig… List to the yarn, as my grandmothe… Our foe was no skulk in his ship… His was the surly English pluck,…
Roaming in thought over the Unive… steadily hastening towards immorta… And the vast all that is call’d E… and become lost and dead.
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,
WHAT weeping face is that lookin… Why does it stream those sorrowful… Is it for some burial place, vast… Is it to wet the soil of graves?
Sauntering the pavement or riding… Faces of friendship, precision, ca… The spiritual-prescient face, the… The face of the singing of music,… judges broad at the back-top,
Amid these days of order, ease, pr… Amid the current songs of beauty,… I cast a reminiscence—(likely ‘twi… I heard it in my boyhood;)—More t… A queer old savage man, a fighter…
I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of… pass’d the church, Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the… stretch’d sighs up above so mournf… I heard the perfect Italian tenor…
On journeys through the States we… (Ay, through the world—urged by th… Sailing henceforth to every land—t… We, willing learners of all, teach… We have watch’d the seasons dispen…
Myself and mine gymnastic ever, To stand the cold or heat, to take… manage horses, to beget superb chi… To speak readily and clearly, to f… And to hold our own in terrible po…
As if a phantom caress’d me, I thought I was not alone, walkin… But the one I thought was with me… one I loved, that caress’d me, As I lean and look through the gl…
After the supper and talk—after th… As a friend from friends his final… Good-bye and Good-bye with emotio… (So hard for his hand to release t… No more for communion of sorrow an…
IN clouds descending, in midnight… Of the look at first of the mortal… Of the dead on their backs, with a… I dream, I dream, I dream. Of scenes of nature, the fields an…
An ancient song, reciting, ending, Once gazing toward thee, Mother o… Musing, seeking themes fitted for… Accept me, thou saidst, the elder… And name for me before thou goest…
If I should need to name, O West… and show, ’Twould not be you, Niagara—nor y… huge rifts of canyons, Colorado, Nor you, Yosemite—nor Yellowstone…
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…