#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
That coursing on, whate’er men’s s… Amid the changing schools, theolog… Amid the bawling presentations new… The round earth’s silent vital law…
One’s-Self I sing, a simple separ… Yet utter the word Democratic, th… Of physiology from top to toe I s… Not physiognomy alone nor brain al… The Female equally with the Male…
More experiences and sights, stran… Times again, now mostly just after… Sometimes in spring, oftener in au… plain sight, Camps far or near, the crowded str…
The world below the brine, Forests at the bottom of the sea,… Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange… openings, and pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and gr…
Lo! The unbounded sea! On its breast a Ship starting, sp… Ship, carrying even her moonsails; The pennant is flying aloft, as sh… below, emulous waves press forward…
When I peruse the conquer’d fame… mighty generals, I do not envy the… Nor the President in his Presiden… But when I hear of the brotherhoo… How through life, through dangers,…
Far hence amid an isle of wondrous… Crouching over a grave an ancient… Once a queen, now lean and tatter’… Her old white hair drooping dishev… At her feet fallen an unused royal…
Pensive and faltering, The words the Dead I write, For living are the Dead, (Haply the only living, only real, And I the apparition, I the spect…
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…
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,
I see before me now a traveling ar… Below a fertile valley spread, wit… Behind, the terraced sides of a mo… Broken, with rocks, with clinging… The numerous camp-fires scatter’d…
As down the stage again, With Spanish hat and plumes, and… Back from the fading lessons of th… How much from thee! the revelation… (So firm—so liquid-soft—again that…
By broad Potomac’s shore, again o… (Still uttering, still ejaculating… Again old heart so gay, again to y… returning, Again the freshness and the odors,…
I was looking a long while for the… It is not in those paged fables in… It is no more in the legends than… It is in the present—it is this ea… It is in Democracy—in this Americ…
A song, a poem of itself—the word… Amid the wilds, the rocks, the sto… To me such misty, strange tableaux… Yonnondio— I see, far in the west or north, a…