#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Ages and ages returning at interva… Undestroy’d, wandering immortal, Lusty, phallic, with the potent or… I, chanter of Adamic songs, Through the new garden the West,…
Now list to my morning’s romanza,… To the cities and farms I sing as… A young man comes to me bearing a… How shall the young man know the w… Tell him to send me the signs. An…
My city’s fit and noble name resum… Choice aboriginal name, with marve… A rocky founded island—shores wher… going, hurrying sea waves.
Upon this scene, this show, Yielded to-day by fashion, learnin… (Nor in caprice alone– some grains… Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from di… As some old tree, or rock or cliff…
Roaming in thought over the Unive… steadily hastening towards immorta… And the vast all that is call’d E… and become lost and dead.
THE business man, the acquirer va… After assiduous years, surveying r… Devises houses and lands to his ch… funds for a school or hospital, Leaves money to certain companions…
A child said What is the grass? f… How could I answer the child? I d… I guess it must be the flag of my… Or I guess it is the handkerchief… A scented gift and remembrancer de…
Earth, my likeness, Though you look so impassive, ampl… I now suspect that is not all; I now suspect there is something f… For an athlete is enamour’d of me,…
You who celebrate bygones, Who have explored the outward, the… has exhibited itself, Who have treated of man as the cre… and priests,
You felons on trial in courts, You convicts in prison-cells, you… handcuff’d with iron, Who am I too that I am not on tri… Me ruthless and devilish as any, t…
The soothing sanity and blitheness… The pomp and hurried contest-glare… Now triumph! transformation! jubil…
Wild, wild the storm, and the sea… Steady the roar of the gale, with… Shouts of demoniac laughter fitful… Waves, air, midnight, their savage… Out in the shadows there milk-whit…
Spontaneous me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun,… The arm of my friend hanging idly… The hill-side whiten’d with blosso… The same, late in autumn—the hues…
You laggards there on guard! look… In at the conquer’d doors they cro… Embody all presences outlaw’d or s… See myself in prison shaped like a… And feel the dull unintermitted pa…
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…