#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Down on the ancient wharf, the san… He shipp’d as green-hand boy, and… vehement notion;) Since, twenty years and more have… While he the globe was circling ro…
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins <… 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…
Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazz… The earth’s whole amplitude and N… for once to colors; The light, the general air possess… No limit, confine—not the Western…
Myself and mine gymnastic ever, To stand the cold or heat, to take… manage horses, to beget superb chi… To speak readily and clearly, to f… And to hold our own in terrible po…
A call in the midst of the crowd, My own voice, orotund sweeping and… Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women,… Now the performer launches his ner…
First O songs for a prelude, Lightly strike on the stretch’d ty… How she led the rest to arms, how… How at once with lithe limbs unwai… (O superb! O Manhattan, my own, m…
A Glimpse, through an interstice… Of a crowd of workmen and drivers… late of a winter night—And I unre… Of a youth who loves me, and whom… seating himself near, that he may…
Have I no weapon-word for thee—so… (Have I fought out and done indee… For all thy affectations, lisps, s… Nor for myself—my own rebellious s… Down, down, proud gorge!—though ch…
Be composed—be at ease with me—I… Not till the sun excludes you, do… Not till the waters refuse to glis… My girl, I appoint with you an ap… charge you that you make preparati…
Not from successful love alone, Nor wealth, nor honor’d middle age… But as life wanes, and all the tur… As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues c… As softness, fulness, rest, suffus…
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…
Good-bye my fancy—(I had a word t… But ’tis not quite the time—The b… Is when its proper place arrives—a… I keep mine till the last.)
At the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful for… From the clasp of the knitted lock… doors, Let me be wafted.
Stranger! if you, passing, meet me… speak to me, why should you not sp… And why should I not speak to you…
Pensive and faltering, The words the Dead I write, For living are the Dead, (Haply the only living, only real, And I the apparition, I the spect…