#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #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,
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…
The place where a great city stand… Nor the place of ceaseless salutes… Nor the place of the tallest and c… Nor the place of the best librarie… Nor the place of the most numerous…
HOURS continuing long, sore and… Hours of the dusk, when I withdra… spot, seating myself, leaning my f… Hours sleepless, deep in the night… the country roads, or through the…
You lingering sparse leaves of me… And I some well-shorn tree of fie… You tokens diminute and lorn—(not… clover-bloom—no grain of August no… You pallid banner-staves—you penna…
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping, Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers, Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, con...
STATES! Were you looking to be held togeth… By an agreement on a paper? Or by… Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond a…
One hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in… What do my shouts amid lightnings… O to drink the mystic deliria deep…
Locations and times—what is it in… and wherever, and makes me at home… Forms, colors, densities, odors—wh… them?
Now lift me close to your face til… What you are holding is in reality… of a book; It is a man, flush’d and full-bloo… —We must separate awhile—Here! ta…
In a little house keep I pictures… It is round, it is only a few inch… Yet behold, it has room for all th… Here the tableaus of life, and her… Here, do you know this? this is ci…
Hark, some wild trumpeter, some st… Hovering unseen in air, vibrates c… I hear thee trumpeter, listening a… Now pouring, whirling like a tempe… Now low, subdued, now in the dista…
BROTHER of all, with generous h… Of thee, pondering on thee, as o’e… A thought to launch in memory of t… A burial verse for thee. What may we chant, O thou within…
BATHED in war’s perfume—delicat… (Should the days needing armies, n… O to hear you call the sailors and… beautiful woman! O to hear the tramp, tramp, of a m…
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…
