#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
(Volunteer of 1861-2, at Washingt… Centenarian.) Give me your hand old Revolutiona… The hill-top is nigh, but a few st… Up the path you have follow’d me w…
Now list to my morning’s romanza,… To the cities and farms I sing as… A young man comes to me bearing a… How shall the young man know the w… Tell him to send me the signs. An…
IN midnight sleep, of many a face… Of the look at first of the mortal… look; Of the dead on their backs, with a… I dream, I dream, I dream.
What you give me, I cheerfully ac… A little sustenance, a hut and gar… rendezvous with my poems; A traveler’s lodging and breakfast… Why should I be ashamed to own su…
Here first the duties of to-day, t… Wealth, order, travel, shelter, pr… As of the building of some varied,… Whence to arise inevitable in time… The solid-planted spires tall shoo…
From pent-up, aching rivers; From that of myself, without which… From what I am determin’d to make… among men; From my own voice resonant—singing…
O BITTER sprig! Confession spr… In the bouquet I give you place a… Proceeding no further till, humble… I give fair warning, once for all. I own that I have been sly, thiev…
Now I tell what I knew in Texas… (I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall o… The hundred and fifty are dumb yet… ’Tis the tale of the murder in col…
Stranger! if you, passing, meet me… speak to me, why should you not sp… And why should I not speak to you…
1 On the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and… savage and husky song, As I watch the bright stars shini… of the clef of the universes, and…
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,
Women sit or move to and fro, some… The young are beautiful—but the ol…
Old farmers, travelers, workmen (n… Old sailors, out of many a perilou… Old soldiers from campaigns, with… Enough that they’ve survived at al… Forth from their struggles, trials…
Year of meteors! brooding year! I would bind in words retrospectiv… I would sing your contest for the… I would sing how an old man, tall,… scaffold in Virginia,
Gliding o’er all, through all, Through Nature, Time, and Space, As a ship on the waters advancing, The voyage of the soul—not life al… Death, many deaths I’ll sing.