#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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…
The prairie-grass dividing—its spe… I demand of it the spiritual corre… Demand the most copious and close… Demand the blades to rise of words… Those of the open atmosphere, coar…
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…
The friendly and flowing savage, w… Is he waiting for civilization, or… Is he some Southwesterner rais’d… Is he from the Mississippi countr… The mountains? prairie-life, bush-…
The two old, simple problems ever… Close home, elusive, present, baff… By each successive age insoluble,… To ours to-day—and we pass on the…
Dazzling and tremendous how quick… If I could not now and always sen… We also ascend dazzling and tremen… We found our own O my soul in the… My voice goes after what my eyes c…
Who goes there? hankering, gross,… How is it I extract strength from… What is a man anyhow? what am I?… All I mark as my own you shall of… Else it were time lost listening t…
I MET a Seer, Passing the hues and objects of th… The fields of art and learning, pl… To glean Eidólons. Put in thy chants, said he,
Among the men and women, the multi… I perceive one picking me out by s… Acknowledging none else—not parent… any nearer than I am; Some are baffled—But that one is…
I am of old and young, of the fool… Regardless of others, ever regardf… Maternal as well as paternal, a ch… Stuff’d with the stuff that is coa… One of the Nation of many nations…
The sobbing of the bells, the sudd… The slumberers rouse, the rapport… (Full well they know that message… Full well return, respond within t… reverberations,)
When the full-grown poet came, Out spake pleased Nature (the rou… of day and night,) saying, He is m… But out spake too the Soul of man… Nay he is mine alone;
Nor alone those camps of white, ol… When as order’d forward, after a l… Footsore and weary, soon as the li… Some of us so fatigued carrying th… in our tracks,
A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets… A song of farms—a song of the soil… A song with the smell of sun-dried… handle the pitch-fork;
I sing the body electric, The armies of those I love engirt… They will not let me off till I g… And discorrupt them, and charge th… Was it doubted that those who corr…