#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
Heave the anchor short! Raise main-sail and jib—steer fort… O little white-hull’d sloop, now s… (I will not call it our concluding… But outset and sure entrance to th…
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…
1 On the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and… savage and husky song, As I watch the bright stars shini… of the clef of the universes, and…
Thou Mother with thy equal brood, Thou varied chain of different St… A special song before I go I’d si… For thee, the future. I’d sow a seed for thee of endless…
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…
Whoever you are, I fear you are w… I fear these supposed realities ar… Even now your features, joys, spee… Your true soul and body appear bef… They stand forth out of affairs, o…
Apple orchards, the trees all cove… Wheat fields carpeted far and near… The eternal, exhaustless freshness… The yellow, golden, transparent ha… The aspiring lilac bushes with pro…
AMERICA always! Always our own feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula!… less delta of Louisiana! Always t… of Alabama and Texas!
Ah poverties, wincings, and sulky… Ah you foes that in conflict have… (For what is my life or any man’s… the incessant war?) You degradations, you tussle with…
Blind loving wrestling touch, shea… Did it make you ache so, leaving m… Parting track’d by arriving, perpe… Rich showering rain, and recompens… Sprouts take and accumulate, stand…
Full of life, now, compact, visibl… I, forty years old the Eighty-thi… To one a century hence, or any num… To you, yet unborn, these, seeking… When you read these, I, that was…
Lo! The unbounded sea! On its breast a Ship starting, sp… Ship, carrying even her moonsails; The pennant is flying aloft, as sh… below, emulous waves press forward…
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…
All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own deli… They do not need the obstetric for… The insignificant is as big to me… (What is less or more than a touch…
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…
