#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Chanting the square deific, out of… Out of the old and new, out of the… Solid, four-sided, (all the sides… Old Brahm I, and I Saturnius am; Not Time affects me—I am Time, o…
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,
1 O TO make the most jubilant po… O full of music! Full of manhood,… fancy! O full of common employments! Ful… trees.
In some unused lagoon, some namele… On sluggish, lonesome waters, anch… An old, dismasted, gray and batter… After free voyages to all the seas… tight,
What think you I take my pen in h… The battle-ship, perfect-model’d,… offing to-day under full sail? The splendors of the past day? Or… envelopes me?
O magnet-south! O glistening perf… O quick mettle, rich blood, impuls… to me! O dear to me my birth-things—all m… was born—the grains, plants, river…
THITHER, as I look, I see each… nestling close, always obligated; Thither hours, months, years—thith… establishments, even the most minu… Thither every-day life, speech, ut…
Night on the prairies, The supper is over, the fire on th… The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt… I walk by myself—I stand and look… realized before.
After surmounting three-score and… With all their chances, changes, l… My parents’ deaths, the vagaries o… me, the war of ’63 and ‘4, As some old broken soldier, after…
For the Inauguration of a Public… An old man’s thought of school, An old man gathering youthful memo… cannot. Now only do I know you,
Shut not your doors to me proud li… For that which was lacking on all… most, I bring, Forth from the war emerging, a boo… The words of my book nothing, the…
A promise to California, Also to the great Pastoral Plains… Sojourning east a while longer, so… to teach robust American love; For I know very well that I and r…
In a little house keep I pictures… It is round, it is only a few inch… Yet behold, it has room for all th… Here the tableaus of life, and her… Here, do you know this? this is ci…
Pensive and faltering, The words the Dead I write, For living are the Dead, (Haply the only living, only real, And I the apparition, I the spect…
Still though the one I sing, (One, yet of contradictions made,)… I leave in him revolt, (O latent… indispensable fire!)