#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
I sit and look out upon all the so… oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from… themselves, remorseful after deeds… I see, in low life, the mother mis…
(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…
Of obedience, faith, adhesiveness; As I stand aloof and look there i… in large masses of men following t… men.
My city’s fit and noble name resum… Choice aboriginal name, with marve… A rocky founded island—shores wher… going, hurrying sea waves.
1 HUSH’D be the camps to-day; And, soldiers, let us drape our wa… And each, with musing soul retire,… Our dear commander’s death. 2 No more for him life’s stormy c…
The negro holds firmly the reins o… The negro that drives the long dra… His blue shirt exposes his ample n… His glance is calm and commanding,… The sun falls on his crispy hair a…
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…
Not heat flames up and consumes, Not sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air, delicious and dry, th… lightly along white down-balls of… Wafted, sailing gracefully, to dro…
A march in the ranks hard-prest, a… A route through a heavy wood with… Our army foil’d with loss severe,… Till after midnight glimmer upon u… We come to an open space in the wo…
How dare one say it? After the cycles, poems, singers,… Vaunted Ionia’s, India’s –Homer,… dotted roads, areas, The shining clusters and the Milk…
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…
O take my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights… Such join’d unended links, each ho… Each answering all—each sharing th… What widens within you, Walt Whit…
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…
WHY reclining, interrogating? Wh… What deepening twilight! scum floa… Who are they, as bats and night-do… What a filthy Presidentiad! (O so… arctic freezings!)
Thanks in old age—thanks ere I go… For health, the midday sun, the im… For precious ever-lingering memori… father—you, brothers, sisters, fri… For all my days—not those of peace…
