#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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,
In paths untrodden, In the growth by margins of pond-w… Escaped from the lite that exhibit… From all the standards hitherto pu… conformities,
All you are doing and saying is to… You have not learn’d of Nature—of… learn’d the great amplitude, recti… You have not seen that only such a… And that what is less than they mu…
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…
When I heard at the close of the… with plaudits in the capitol, stil… follow’d, And else when I carous’d, or when… was not happy,
I was looking a long while for the… It is not in those paged fables in… It is no more in the legends than… It is in the present—it is this ea… It is in Democracy—in this Americ…
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…
NOW I make a leaf of Voices—for… they are, And I have found that no word spo… O what is it in me that makes me t… Surely, whoever speaks to me in th…
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! b… Through the windows—through doors—… Into the solemn church, and scatte… Into the school where the scholar… Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no…
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?
That which eludes this verse and a… Unheard by sharpest ear, unform’d… Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness n… And yet the pulse of every heart a… Which you and I and all pursuing…
O to make the most jubilant song! Full of music-full of manhood, wom… Full of common employments-full of… O for the voices of animals-O for… O for the dropping of raindrops in…
Roaming in thought over the Unive… steadily hastening towards immorta… And the vast all that is call’d E… and become lost and dead.
Scented herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write,… Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing… Perennial roots, tall leaves—O th… delicate leaves,
A song, a poem of itself—the word… Amid the wilds, the rocks, the sto… To me such misty, strange tableaux… Yonnondio— I see, far in the west or north, a…