#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
IN former songs Pride have I sun… Life, But here I twine the strands of P… And now, Life, Pride, Love, Patr… To you, O FREEDOM, purport of…
Two boats with nets lying off the… Ten fishermen waiting—they discove… they drop the join’d seine—ends in… The boats separate and row off, ea… beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
Night on the prairies, The supper is over, the fire on th… The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt… I walk by myself—I stand and look… realized before.
The sobbing of the bells, the sudd… The slumberers rouse, the rapport… (Full well they know that message… Full well return, respond within t… reverberations,)
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…
With music strong I come, with my… I play not marches for accepted vi… Have you heard that it was good to… I also say it is good to fall, bat… I beat and pound for the dead,
Quicksand years that whirl me I k… Your schemes, politics, fail, line… Only the theme I sing, the great… One’s-self must never give way—tha… all is sure,
As consequent from store of summer… Or wayward rivulets in autumn flow… Or many a herb—lined brook’s retic… Or subterranean sea—rills making f… Songs of continued years I sing.
Year of meteors! brooding year! I would bind in words retrospectiv… I would sing your contest for the… I would sing how an old man, tall,… scaffold in Virginia,
No labor-saving machine, Nor discovery have I made; Nor will I be able to leave behin… hospital or library, Nor reminiscence of any deed of co…
To The States, or any one of them… Resist much, obey little; Once unquestioning obedience, once… Once fully enslaved, no nation, st…
For the lands, and for these passi… Now I awhile return to thee, O so… Reclining on thy breast, giving my… Answering the pulses of thy sane a… Tuning a verse for thee.
I see the sleeping babe, nestling… mother; The sleeping mother and babe—hush’… long and long.
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…
Simple and fresh and fair from win… As if no artifice of fashion, busi… Forth from its sunny nook of shelt… the dawn, The spring’s first dandelion shows…