#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Behold this swarthy face—these gra… This beard—the white wool, unclipt… My brown hands, and the silent man… Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, an… on the lips with robust love,
I have heard what the talkers were… beginning and the end But I do not talk of the beginnin… There was never any more inception… Nor any more youth or age than the…
City of orgies, walks and joys! City whom that I have lived and s… you illustrious, Not the pageants of you—not your s… repay me;
If I should need to name, O West… and show, ’Twould not be you, Niagara—nor y… huge rifts of canyons, Colorado, Nor you, Yosemite—nor Yellowstone…
Beginning my studies the first ste… The mere fact consciousness, these… The least insect or animal, the se… The first step I say awed me and… I have hardly gone and hardly wish…
The devilish and the dark, the dyi… The countless (nineteen-twentieths… The crazed, prisoners in jail, the… Venom and filth, serpents, the rav… (What is the part the wicked and t…
37 You laggards there on guard! look… In at the conquer’d doors they cro… Embody all presences outlaw’d or s… See myself in prison shaped like a…
I hear it was charged against me t… But really I am neither for nor a… (What indeed have I in common wit… destruction of them?) Only I will establish in the Mann…
My spirit to yours dear brother, Do not mind because many sounding… I do not sound your name, but I u… I specify you with joy O my comra… who are with you, before and since…
Hold it up sternly—see this it sen… Outside fair costume, within ashes… No more a flashing eye, no more a… Now some slave’s eye, voice, hands… A drunkard’s breath, unwholesome e…
What hurrying human tides, or day… What passions, winnings, losses, a… What whirls of evil, bliss and sor… What curious questioning glances… Leer, envy, scorn, contempt, hope,…
Behavior—fresh, native, copious, e… Nature and the Soul expressed—Ame… the finest art, In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy… In it physique, intellect, faith—i…
I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of… pass’d the church, Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the… stretch’d sighs up above so mournf… I heard the perfect Italian tenor…
(Ah little recks the laborer, How near his work is holding him t… The loving Laborer through space… After all not to create only, or f… But to bring perhaps from afar wha…
I heard that you ask’d for somethi… And to define America, her athlet… Therefore I send you my poems tha… wanted.