#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
O take my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights… Such join’d unended links, each ho… Each answering all—each sharing th… What widens within you, Walt Whit…
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,
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…
Good-bye my fancy—(I had a word t… But ’tis not quite the time—The b… Is when its proper place arrives—a… I keep mine till the last.)
Come up from the fields father, he… And come to the front door mother,… Lo, ’tis autumn, Lo, where the trees, deeper green,… Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages…
Not meagre, latent boughs alone,… talons,) But haply for some sunny day (who… summer—bursting forth, To verdant leaves, or sheltering s…
Behavior—fresh, native, copious, e… Nature and the Soul expressed—Ame… the finest art, In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy… In it physique, intellect, faith—i…
One hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in… What do my shouts amid lightnings… O to drink the mystic deliria deep…
I hear it was charged against me t… But really I am neither for nor a… (What indeed have I in common wit… destruction of them?) Only I will establish in the Mann…
Wandering at morn, Emerging from the night from gloom… Yearning for thee harmonious Unio… Thee coil’d in evil times my count… every meanness, treason thrust upo…
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,
Wild, wild the storm, and the sea… Steady the roar of the gale, with… Shouts of demoniac laughter fitful… Waves, air, midnight, their savage… Out in the shadows there milk-whit…
To the garden, the world, anew asc… Potent mates, daughters, sons, pre… The love, the life of their bodies… Curious, here behold my resurrecti… The revolving cycles, in their wid…
(Ah little recks the laborer, How near his work is holding him t… The loving Laborer through space… After all not to create only, or f… But to bring perhaps from afar wha…