#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
Sometimes with one I love I fill… unreturn’d love, But now I think there is no unret… or another (I loved a certain person ardently…
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…
Roaming in thought over the Unive… steadily hastening towards immorta… And the vast all that is call’d E… and become lost and dead.
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…
O, Death! a black and pierceless… Hangs round thee, and the future s… No eye may see, no mind may grasp That mystery of fate. This braid, which now alternate th…
A child said, What is the grass?… hands; How could I answer the child?. .… is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my…
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…
My science-friend, my noblest woma… (Now buried in an English grave—a… sake,) Ended our talk—”The sum, concludi… learning, intuitions deep,
The little one sleeps in its cradl… I lift the gauze and look a long t… The youngster and the red-faced gi… I peeringly view them from the top… The suicide sprawls on the bloody…
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?
Ah, not this marble, dead and cold… Far from its base and shaft expand… comprehending, Thou, Washington, art all the wor… alone, America,
With its cloud of skirmishers in a… With now the sound of a single sho… irregular volley, The swarming ranks press on and on… Glittering dimly, toiling under th…
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…
FROM my last years, last thought… Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and… Through moisture of Ohio, prairie… California air, For Time to germinate fully.
What am I, after all, but a child… name? repeating it over and over; I stand apart to hear—it never tir… To you, your name also; Did you think there was nothing bu…