#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Welcome, Brazilian brother—thy am… A loving hand—a smile from the nor… (Let the future care for itself, w… Ours, ours the present throe, the… the faith;)
Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else b… Whether I walk the streets of Man… Or dart my sight over the roofs of… Or wade with naked feet along the…
As I lay with my head in your lap… The confession I made I resume—wh… the open air I resume: I know I am restless, and make ot… I know my words are weapons, full…
This moment yearning and thoughtfu… It seems to me there are other men… thoughtful; It seems to me I can look over an… France, Spain—or far, far away, i…
NOW, dearest comrade, lift me to… We must separate awhile—Here! tak… Whoever you are, I give it especi… So long!—And I hope we shall meet…
I believe in you my soul, the othe… And you must not be abased to the… Loafe with me on the grass, loose… Not words, not music or rhyme I w… Only the lull I like, the hum of…
Come my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your wea… Have you your pistols? have you yo… Pioneers! O pioneers! For we cannot tarry here,
And as to you Death, and you bitt… To his work without flinching the… I see the elder-hand pressing rece… I recline by the sills of the exqu… And mark the outlet, and mark the…
Poets to come! orators, singers, m… Not to-day is to justify me, and a… But you, a new brood, native, athl… Arouse! Arouse—for you must justi… I myself but write one or two indi…
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…
My science-friend, my noblest woma… (Now buried in an English grave—a… sake,) Ended our talk—”The sum, concludi… learning, intuitions deep,
By the bivouac’s fitful flame, A procession winding around me, so… first I note, The tents of the sleeping army, th… The darkness lit by spots of kindl…
1 THE indications, and tally of… Perfect sanity shows the master am… Time, always without flaw, indicat… What always indicates the poet, is… pleasant company of singers, and t…
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…
While my wife at my side lies slum… And my head on the pillow rests at… And through the stillness, through… of my infant, There in the room as I wake from…
