#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
These are really the thoughts of a… If they are not yours as much as m… If they are not the riddle and the… If they are not just as close as t… This is the grass that grows where…
Upon this scene, this show, Yielded to-day by fashion, learnin… (Nor in caprice alone– some grains… Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from di… As some old tree, or rock or cliff…
Sauntering the pavement or riding… Faces of friendship, precision, ca… The spiritual-prescient face, the… The face of the singing of music,… judges broad at the back-top,
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,…
Stretch’d and still lies the midni… Two great hulls motionless on the… Our vessel riddled and slowly sink… The captain on the quarter-deck co… Near by the corpse of the child th…
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…
STATES! Were you looking to be held togeth… By an agreement on a paper? Or by… Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond a…
Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazz… The earth’s whole amplitude and N… for once to colors; The light, the general air possess… No limit, confine—not the Western…
With husky-haughty lips, O sea! Where day and night I wend thy su… Imaging to my sense thy varied str… (I see and plainly list thy talk a… Thy troops of white-maned racers r…
Out of the rolling ocean the crowd… Whispering, I love you, before lo… I have travell’d a long way merely… For I could not die till I once l… For I fear’d I might afterward lo…
1 FIRST, O songs, for a prelud… Lightly strike on the stretch’d ty… in my city, How she led the rest to arms—how s… How at once with lithe limbs, unwa…
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…
These I singing in spring collect… (For who but I should understand… And who but I should be the poet… Collecting I traverse the garden… Now along the pond-side, now wadin…
An old man bending I come among n… Years looking backward resuming in… Come tell us old man, as from youn… (Arous’d and angry, I’d thought t… But soon my fingers fail’d me, my…
For the lands, and for these passi… Now I awhile return to thee, O so… Reclining on thy breast, giving my… Answering the pulses of thy sane a… Tuning a verse for thee.