#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse #LeavesOfGrass
Myself and mine gymnastic ever, To stand the cold or heat, to take… manage horses, to beget superb chi… To speak readily and clearly, to f… And to hold our own in terrible po…
Simple and fresh and fair from win… As if no artifice of fashion, busi… Forth from its sunny nook of shelt… the dawn, The spring’s first dandelion shows…
1 HUSH’D be the camps to-day; And, soldiers, let us drape our wa… And each, with musing soul retire,… Our dear commander’s death. 2 No more for him life’s stormy c…
Lover divine and perfect Comrade, Waiting content, invisible yet, bu… Be thou my God. Thou, thou, the Ideal Man, Fair, able, beautiful, content, an…
Has any one supposed it lucky to b… I hasten to inform him or her it i… I pass death with the dying and bi… And peruse manifold objects, no tw… The earth good and the stars good,…
Weapon shapely, naked, wan, Head from the mother’s bowels draw… Wooded flesh and metal bone, limb… Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown,… Resting the grass amid and upon,
Not heaving from my ribb’d breast… Not in sighs at night, in rage, di… Not in those long-drawn, ill-suppr… Not in many an oath and promise br… Not in my wilful and savage soul’s…
Would you hear of an old-time sea-… Would you learn who won by the lig… List to the yarn, as my grandmothe… Our foe was no skulk in his ship… His was the surly English pluck,…
You who celebrate bygones, Who have explored the outward, the… has exhibited itself, Who have treated of man as the cre… and priests,
Let the reformers descend from the… bawling—let an idiot or insane per… Let judges and criminals be transp… in prison—let those that were pris… Let them that distrust birth and d…
To the leaven’d soil they trod cal… (Forth from my tent emerging for g… In the freshness the forenoon air,… again to peace restored, To the fiery fields emanative and…
Passing stranger! you do not know… You must be he I was seeking, or… I have somewhere surely lived a li… All is recall’d as we flit by each… You grew up with me, were a boy wi…
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?
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…
Joy! shipmate—joy! (Pleas’d to my Soul at death I cr… Our life is closed—our life begins… The long, long anchorage we leave, The ship is clear at last—she leap…