#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Stranger! if you, passing, meet me… speak to me, why should you not sp… And why should I not speak to you…
Did you ask dulcet rhymes from me? Did you seek the civilian’s peacef… Did you find what I sang erewhile… Why I was not singing erewhile fo… am I now;
I SAY whatever tastes sweet to t… —That is finally right. I SAY the human shape or face is… never be made ridiculous; I say for ornaments nothing outré…
Manhattan’s streets I saunter’d p… On Time, Space, Reality—on such… Prudence. The last explanation always remain… immortality.
Rise O days from your fathomless… Long for my soul hungering gymnast… Long I roam’d amid the woods of t… I travel’d the prairies over and s… Nevadas, I cross’d the plateaus,
Who goes there? hankering, gross,… How is it I extract strength from… What is a man anyhow? what am I?… All I mark as my own you shall of… Else it were time lost listening t…
In midnight sleep of many a face o… Of the look at first of the mortal… Of the dead on their backs with ar… I dream. Of scenes of Nature, fields and m…
I do not despise you priests, all… My faith is the greatest of faiths… Enclosing worship ancient and mode… Believing I shall come again upon… Waiting responses from oracles, ho…
The appointed winners in a long-st… The course of Time and nations—Eg… The past entire, with all its hero… Its store of songs, inventions, vo… Garner’d for now and thee—To thin…
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.
The prairie-grass dividing—its spe… I demand of it the spiritual corre… Demand the most copious and close… Demand the blades to rise of words… Those of the open atmosphere, coar…
Come my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your wea… Have you your pistols? have you yo… Pioneers! O pioneers! For we cannot tarry here,
Suddenly out of its stale and drow… Like lightning it le’pt forth half… Its feet upon the ashes and the ra… O hope and faith! O aching close of exiled patriots’…
I believe in you my soul, the othe… And you must not be abased to the… Loafe with me on the grass, loose… Not words, not music or rhyme I w… Only the lull I like, the hum of…
WHAT weeping face is that lookin… Why does it stream those sorrowful… Is it for some burial place, vast… Is it to wet the soil of graves?