#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse #LeavesOfGrass
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins <… O drops of me! trickle, slow drops… Candid, from me falling—drip, blee… From wounds made to free you whenc… From my face—from my forehead and…
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…
This moment yearning and thoughtfu… It seems to me there are other men… thoughtful; It seems to me I can look over an… France, Spain—or far, far away, i…
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,
Sometimes with one I love I fill… unreturn’d love, But now I think there is no unret… or another (I loved a certain person ardently…
The touch of flame—the illuminatin… O’er city, passion, sea—o’er prair… The airy, different, changing hues… Objects and groups, bearings, face… The calmer sight—the golden settin…
Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else b… Whether I walk the streets of Man… Or dart my sight over the roofs of… Or wade with naked feet along the…
Let that which stood in front go b… Let that which was behind advance… Let bigots, fools, unclean persons… Let the old propositions be postpo… Let a man seek pleasure everywhere…
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…
While my wife at my side lies slum… And my head on the pillow rests at… And through the stillness, through… of my infant, There in the room as I wake from…
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…
O living always, always dying! O the burials of me past and prese… O me while I stride ahead, materi… O me, what I was for years, now d… O to disengage myself from those c…
As Adam, early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refr… Behold me where I pass—hear my vo… Touch me—touch the palm of your ha… Be not afraid of my Body.
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, ...
To thee old cause! Thou peerless, passionate, good ca… Thou stern, remorseless, sweet ide… Deathless throughout the ages, rac… After a strange sad war, great war…