#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
I see before me now a traveling ar… Below a fertile valley spread, wit… Behind, the terraced sides of a mo… Broken, with rocks, with clinging… The numerous camp-fires scatter’d…
Wild, wild the storm, and the sea… Steady the roar of the gale, with… Shouts of demoniac laughter fitful… Waves, air, midnight, their savage… Out in the shadows there milk-whit…
AMERICA always! Always our own feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula!… less delta of Louisiana! Always t… of Alabama and Texas!
Always our old feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula—… Louisiana—always the cotton-fields… Always California’s golden hills… of New Mexico—always soft-breath’…
As they draw to a close, Of what underlies the precedent so… Of the seed I have sought to plan… Of joy, sweet joy, through many a… (For them, for them have I lived,…
In midnight sleep of many a face o… Of the look at first of the mortal… Of the dead on their backs with ar… I dream. Of scenes of Nature, fields and m…
STATES! Were you looking to be held togeth… By an agreement on a paper? Or by… Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond a…
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhat… Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating… No sentimentalist, no stander abov… No more modest than immodest. Unscrew the locks from the doors!
Trickle drops! my blue veins leavi… 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…
All submit to them, where they sit… analysis, in the Soul; Not traditions—not the outer autho… the judges of outer authorities, a… They corroborate as they go, only…
In cabin’d ships at sea, The boundless blue on every side e… With whistling winds and music of… Or some lone bark buoy’d on the de… Where joyous full of faith, spread…
1 AS nearing departure, As the time draws nigh, glooming,… A dread beyond, of I know not wha… 2 I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States—but…
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…
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?
ll, and here again he lies.A sight… As from my tent I emerge so early… As slow I walk in the cool fresh… Three forms I see on stretchers l… Over each the blanket spread, ampl…