#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
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…
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?
And who art thou? said I to the s… Which, strange to tell, gave me an… I am the Poem of Earth, said the… Eternal I rise impalpable out of… Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely…
Of ownership—as if one fit to own… upon all, and incorporate them int… Of vista—suppose some sight in arr… presuming the growth, fulness, lif… (But I see the road continued, an…
When his hour for death had come, He slowly rais’d himself from the… Drew on his war-dress, shirt, legg… waist, Call’d for vermilion paint (his lo…
Brave, brave were the soldiers (hi… the fight; But the bravest press’d to the fro…
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…
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…
TWO Rivulets side by side, Two blended, parallel, strolling t… Companions, travelers, gossiping a… For the Eternal Ocean bound, These ripples, passing surges, str…
The commonplace I sing; How cheap is health! how cheap nob… Abstinence, no falsehood, no glutt… The open air I sing, freedom, tol… (Take here the mainest lesson—less…
I MET a Seer, Passing the hues and objects of th… The fields of art and learning, pl… To glean Eidólons. Put in thy chants, said he,
Women sit or move to and fro, some… The young are beautiful—but the ol…
I know I have the best of time an… I tramp a perpetual journey, (come… My signs are a rain-proof coat, go… No friend of mine takes his ease i… I have no chair, no church, no phi…
I believe a leaf of grass is no le… And the pismire is equally perfect… And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuv… And the running blackberry would a… And the narrowest hinge in my hand…
Despairing cries float ceaselessly… The sad voice of Death—the call o… alarmed, uncertain, “This sea I am quickly to sail, c… Come tell me where I am speeding—…