#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
Forms, qualities, lives, humanity,… The ones known, and the ones unkno… The stars themselves, some shaped,… Wonders as of those countries, the… whatever they may be,
Laws for creations, For strong artists and leaders, fo… literats for America, For noble savans and coming musici… All must have reference to the ens…
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…
In a little house keep I pictures… It is round, it is only a few inch… Yet behold, it has room for all th… Here the tableaus of life, and her… Here, do you know this? this is ci…
AN old man bending, I come, among… Years looking backward, resuming,… Come tell us, old man, as from you… (Arous’d and angry, I’d thought t… but soon my fingers fail’d me, my…
Women sit or move to and fro, some… The young are beautiful—but the ol…
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…
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…
Pensive, on her dead gazing, I he… Desperate, on the torn bodies, on… battle-fields gazing; As she call’d to her earth with mo… stalk’d:
1 AS nearing departure, As the time draws nigh, glooming,… A dread beyond, of I know not wha… 2 I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States—but…
Who includes diversity and is Nat… Who is the amplitude of the earth,… the earth, and the great charity o… Who has not look’d forth from the… whose brain held audience with mes…
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…
As I ebb’d with the ocean of life… As I wended the shores I know, As I walk’d where the ripples con… Where they rustle up hoarse and si… Where the fierce old mother endles…
This latent mine—these unlaunch’d… Wrath, argument, or praise, or com… (Not nonpareil, brevier, bourgeois… These ocean waves arousable to fur… Or sooth’d to ease and sheeny sun…
I believe in you my soul, the othe… And you must not be abased to the… Loafe with me on the grass, loose… Not words, not music or rhyme I w… Only the lull I like, the hum of…