#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
I sit and look out upon all the so… oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from… themselves, remorseful after deeds… I see, in low life, the mother mis…
City of ships! (O the black ships! O the fierce… O the beautiful sharp-bow’d steam-… City of the world! (for all races… All the lands of the earth make co…
Aboard at a ship’s helm, A young steersman steering with ca… Through fog on a sea-coast doleful… An ocean-bell—O a warning bell, r… O you give good notice indeed, you…
I celebrate myself, and sing mysel… And what I assume you shall assum… For every atom belonging to me as… I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observ…
We two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going—North… Power enjoying—elbows stretching—f… Arm’d and fearless—eating, drinkin…
The soothing sanity and blitheness… The pomp and hurried contest-glare… Now triumph! transformation! jubil…
WHAT General has a good army in… He happy in himself, or she happy… But I tell you you cannot be happ… beget or conceive a child by other…
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…
On a flat road runs the well-train… He is lean and sinewy with muscula… He is thinly clothed, he leans for… With lightly closed fists and arms…
Brave, brave were the soldiers (hi… the fight; But the bravest press’d to the fro…
Now precedent songs, farewell—by e… (Trains of a staggering line in ma… From ups and downs—with intervals—… “In Cabin’d Ships, or Thee Old… Or Paumanok, Song of Myself, Cal…
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…
A Woman waits for me—she contains… Yet all were lacking, if sex were… right man were lacking. Sex contains all, Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs,…
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…
Come up from the fields father, he… And come to the front door mother,… Lo, ’tis autumn, Lo, where the trees, deeper green,… Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages…