#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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…
Here first the duties of to-day, t… Wealth, order, travel, shelter, pr… As of the building of some varied,… Whence to arise inevitable in time… The solid-planted spires tall shoo…
Enough! enough! enough! Somehow I have been stunn’d. Stan… Give me a little time beyond my cu… I discover myself on the verge of… That I could forget the mockers a…
OF the visages of things—And of p… hells beneath; Of ugliness—To me there is just a… beauty—And now the ugliness of hum… me;
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…
Courage yet, my brother or my sist… Keep on—Liberty is to be subserv’… That is nothing that is quell’d by… failures, Or by the indifference or ingratit…
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,
After the sea-ship, after the whis… After the white-gray sails taut to… Below, a myriad myriad waves haste… Tending in ceaseless flow toward t… Waves of the ocean bubbling and gu…
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…
I doubt it not—then more, far more… In each old song bequeath’d—in eve… (Different—something unreck’d befo… In every object, mountain, tree, a… As part of each—evolv’d from each—…
O you whom I often and silently c… with you; As I walk by your side, or sit ne… you, Little you know the subtle electri…
Have I no weapon-word for thee—so… (Have I fought out and done indee… For all thy affectations, lisps, s… Nor for myself—my own rebellious s… Down, down, proud gorge!—though ch…
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…
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me; Chant me the poem, it said, ...
Whispers of heavenly death murmur’… Labial gossip of night, sibilant c… Footsteps gently ascending, mystic… Ripples of unseen rivers, tides of… (Or is it the plashing of tears? t…