#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
ONE sweeps by, attended by an imm… All emblematic of peace—not a sold… One sweeps by, old, with black eye… He has the simple magnificence of… His face strikes as with flashes o…
What may we chant, O thou within… What tablets, outlines, hang for t… The life thou lived’st we know not… But that thou walk’dst thy years i… Nor heroism thine, nor war, nor gl…
Two boats with nets lying off the… Ten fishermen waiting—they discove… they drop the join’d seine—ends in… The boats separate and row off, ea… beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
Despairing cries float ceaselessly… The sad voice of Death—the call o… alarmed, uncertain, “This sea I am quickly to sail, c… Come tell me where I am speeding—…
For his o’erarching and last lesso… In the fresh scent of the morning… On the slope of a teeming Persian… Under an ancient chestnut-tree wid… Spoke to the young priests and stu…
Stranger! if you, passing, meet me… speak to me, why should you not sp… And why should I not speak to you…
Poets to come! orators, singers, m… Not to-day is to justify me, and a… But you, a new brood, native, athl… Arouse! Arouse—for you must justi… I myself but write one or two indi…
A song for occupations! In the labor of engines and trades… developments, And find the eternal meanings. Workmen and Workwomen!
You lingering sparse leaves of me… And I some well-shorn tree of fie… You tokens diminute and lorn—(not… clover-bloom—no grain of August no… You pallid banner-staves—you penna…
To think of time—of all that retro… To think of to-day, and the ages c… Have you guess’d you yourself woul… Have you dreaded these earth-beetl… Have you fear’d the future would b…
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…
Who are you dusky woman, so ancien… With your woolly-white and turban’… Why rising by the roadside here, d… (’Tis while our army lines Caroli… Forth from thy hovel door thou Et…
By blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these warlike days… that return no more, A Phantom gigantic superb, with s… Chant me the poem, it said, that c…
Behold this swarthy face—these gra… This beard—the white wool, unclipt… My brown hands, and the silent man… Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, an… on the lips with robust love,
Of Public Opinion; Of a calm and cool fiat, sooner or… passive! How certain and final!) Of the President with pale face a… himself, What will the people say…