#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Tears! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears, On the white shore dripping, dripp… Tears, not a star shining, all dar… Moist tears from the eyes of a muf…
THINK of the Soul; I swear to you that body of yours… somehow to live in other spheres; I do not know how, but I know it… Think of loving and being loved;
All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own deli… They do not need the obstetric for… The insignificant is as big to me… (What is less or more than a touch…
O me, man of slack faith so long, Standing aloof, denying portions s… Only aware to-day of compact all-d… Discovering to-day there is no lie… grows as inevitably upon itself as…
Where the city’s ceaseless crowd m… Withdrawn I join a group of child… By the curb toward the edge of the… A knife-grinder works at his wheel… Bending over he carefully holds it…
1 On the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and… savage and husky song, As I watch the bright stars shini… of the clef of the universes, and…
On the beach at night, Stands a child with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky. Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial…
How dare one say it? After the cycles, poems, singers,… Vaunted Ionia’s, India’s –Homer,… dotted roads, areas, The shining clusters and the Milk…
Ah poverties, wincings, and sulky… Ah you foes that in conflict have… (For what is my life or any man’s… the incessant war?) You degradations, you tussle with…
A child said What is the grass? f… How could I answer the child? I d… I guess it must be the flag of my… Or I guess it is the handkerchief… A scented gift and remembrancer de…
A Glimpse, through an interstice… Of a crowd of workmen and drivers… late of a winter night—And I unre… Of a youth who loves me, and whom… seating himself near, that he may…
By the bivouac’s fitful flame, A procession winding around me, so… first I note, The tents of the sleeping army, th… The darkness lit by spots of kindl…
THIS day, O soul, I give you a… Long in the dark, in tarnish and c… has pass’d, and the tarnish gone; …Behold, O soul! it is now a clea… Faithfully showing you all the thi…
I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider brea… He most honors my style who learns… The boy I love, the same becomes… Wicked rather than virtuous out of…
I have heard what the talkers were… beginning and the end But I do not talk of the beginnin… There was never any more inception… Nor any more youth or age than the…