#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
I HEAR you have been asking for… sent the new race, our self-poised… Therefore I send you my poems, th… them what you wanted.
Spirit whose work is done—spirit o… Ere departing fade from my eyes yo… Spirit of gloomiest fears and doub… Spirit of many a solemn day and ma… That with muttering voice through…
I see in you the estuary that enla… in the great sea.
Not youth pertains to me, Nor delicatesse, I cannot beguile… Awkward in the parlor, neither a d… In the learn’d coterie sitting con… to me,
A promise to California, Also to the great Pastoral Plains… Sojourning east a while longer, so… to teach robust American love; For I know very well that I and r…
Nor alone those camps of white, ol… When as order’d forward, after a l… Footsore and weary, soon as the li… Some of us so fatigued carrying th… in our tracks,
From far Dakota’s canyons, Lands of the wild ravine, the dusk… Haply to-day a mournful wall, hapl… The battle-bulletin, The Indian ambuscade, the craft,…
Darest thou now O soul, Walk out with me toward the unknow… Where neither ground is for the fe… No map there, nor guide, Nor voice sounding, nor touch of h…
I have said that the soul is not m… And I have said that the body is… And nothing, not God, is greater… And whoever walks a furlong withou… And I or you pocketless of a dime…
What you give me, I cheerfully ac… A little sustenance, a hut and gar… rendezvous with my poems; A traveler’s lodging and breakfast… Why should I be ashamed to own su…
Welcome, Brazilian brother—thy am… A loving hand—a smile from the nor… (Let the future care for itself, w… Ours, ours the present throe, the… the faith;)
I believe a leaf of grass is no le… And the pismire is equally perfect… And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuv… And the running blackberry would a… And the narrowest hinge in my hand…
SAUNTERING the pavement, or r… road—lo! such faces! Faces of friendship, precision, ca… ideality; The spiritual prescient face—the a…
Sea-beauty! stretch’d and basking! One side thy inland ocean laving,… steamers, sails, And one the Atlantic’s wind cares… dark-gliding in the distance.
Arm’d year—year of the struggle, No dainty rhymes or sentimental lo… Not you as some pale poetling seat… But as a strong man erect, clothed… rifle on your shoulder,
