#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Adieu O soldier, You of the rude campaigning, (whic… The rapid march, the life of the c… The hot contention of opposing fro… Red battles with their slaughter,…
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…
SO far, and so far, and on toward… Singing what is sung in this book,… me; But whether I continue beyond thi… Whether I shall dart forth the tr…
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…
As toilsome I wander’d Virginia’s… To the music of rustling leaves ki… I mark’d at the foot of a tree the… Mortally wounded he and buried on… understand,)
Scented herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write,… Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing… Perennial roots, tall leaves—O th… delicate leaves,
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.
Always our old feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula—… Louisiana—always the cotton-fields… Always California’s golden hills… of New Mexico—always soft-breath’…
Long, too long America, Traveling roads all even and peace… only, But now, ah now, to learn from cri… with direst fate and recoiling not…
To-day, with bending head and eyes… Less for the mighty crown laid low… Thy true condolence breathest, sen… Mourning a good old man—a faithful…
As I sit with others at a great f… To my mind, (whence it comes I kn… at sea, Of certain ships, how they sail fr… wafted kisses, and that is the las…
These I singing in spring collect… (For who but I should understand… And who but I should be the poet… Collecting I traverse the garden… Now along the pond-side, now wadin…
As the Greek’s signal flame, by a… Rose from the hill-top, like appla… Welcoming in fame some special vet… With rosy tinge reddening the land… So I aloft from Mannahatta’s ship…
Quicksand years that whirl me I k… Your schemes, politics, fail, line… Only the theme I sing, the great… One’s-self must never give way—tha… all is sure,
Not from successful love alone, Nor wealth, nor honor’d middle age… But as life wanes, and all the tur… As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues c… As softness, fulness, rest, suffus…