The prairie-grass dividing—its spe… I demand of it the spiritual corre… Demand the most copious and close… Demand the blades to rise of words… Those of the open atmosphere, coar…

Manhattan’s streets I saunter’d p… On Time, Space, Reality—on such… Prudence. The last explanation always remain… immortality.

You sea! I resign myself to you a… I behold from the beach your crook… I believe you refuse to go back wi… We must have a turn together, I u… Cushion me soft, rock me in billow…

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…

The pure contralto sings in the or… The carpenter dresses his plank, t… The married and unmarried children… The pilot seizes the king-pin, he… The mate stands braced in the whal…

YOU just maturing youth! You mal… Remember the organic compact of T… Remember the pledge of the Old Th… life, liberty, equality of man, Remember what was promulged by the…

HE is wisest who has the most cau… He only wins who goes far enough. ANY thing is as good as establish… lished that will produce it and co…

OR, from that Sea of Time, Spray, blown by the wind—a double… (O little shells, so curious-convo… Yet will you not, to the tympans o… Murmurs and echoes still bring up—…

On my northwest coast in the midst… fishermen’s group stands watching; Out on the lake, expanding before… spearing salmon; The canoe, a dim and shadowy thing…

THINK of the Soul; I swear to you that body of yours… somehow to live in other spheres; I do not know how, but I know it… Think of loving and being loved;

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.

Hark, some wild trumpeter, some st… Hovering unseen in air, vibrates c… I hear thee trumpeter, listening a… Now pouring, whirling like a tempe… Now low, subdued, now in the dista…

A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets… A song of farms—a song of the soil… A song with the smell of sun-dried… handle the pitch-fork;