#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping, Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers, Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, con...
1 HUSH’D be the camps to-day; And, soldiers, let us drape our wa… And each, with musing soul retire,… Our dear commander’s death. 2 No more for him life’s stormy c…
You laggards there on guard! look… In at the conquer’d doors they cro… Embody all presences outlaw’d or s… See myself in prison shaped like a… And feel the dull unintermitted pa…
Thee for my recitative, Thee in the driving storm even as… Thee in thy panoply, thy measur’d… Thy black cylindric body, golden b… Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel…
Scented herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write,… Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing… Perennial roots, tall leaves—O th… delicate leaves,
I see before me now a traveling ar… Below a fertile valley spread, wit… Behind, the terraced sides of a mo… Broken, with rocks, with clinging… The numerous camp-fires scatter’d…
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…
A line in long array where they wi… They take a serpentine course, the… musical clank, Behold the silvery river, in it th… Behold the brown-faced men, each g…
The noble sire fallen on evil days… I saw with hand uplifted, menacing… (Memories of old in abeyance, love… The insane knife toward the Mothe… The noble son on sinewy feet advan…
37 You laggards there on guard! look… In at the conquer’d doors they cro… Embody all presences outlaw’d or s… See myself in prison shaped like a…
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…
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.
WHY reclining, interrogating? Wh… What deepening twilight! scum floa… Who are they, as bats and night-do… What a filthy Presidentiad! (O so… arctic freezings!)
On the beach at night, Stands a child with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky. Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial…
Whispers of heavenly death murmur’… Labial gossip of night, sibilant c… Footsteps gently ascending, mystic… Ripples of unseen rivers, tides of… (Or is it the plashing of tears? t…
