#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
1 FIRST, O songs, for a prelud… Lightly strike on the stretch’d ty… in my city, How she led the rest to arms—how s… How at once with lithe limbs, unwa…
Good-bye my fancy—(I had a word t… But ’tis not quite the time—The b… Is when its proper place arrives—a… I keep mine till the last.)
Thou orb aloft full-dazzling! thou… Flooding with sheeny light the gra… The sibilant near sea with vistas… And tawny streaks and shades and s… O sun of noon refulgent! my specia…
From pent-up, aching rivers; From that of myself, without which… From what I am determin’d to make… among men; From my own voice resonant—singing…
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhat… Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating… No sentimentalist, no stander abov… No more modest than immodest. Unscrew the locks from the doors!
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…
Unfolded out of the folds of the w… always to come unfolded; Unfolded only out of the superbest… superbest man of the earth; Unfolded out of the friendliest wo…
FROM my last years, last thought… Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and… Through moisture of Ohio, prairie… California air, For Time to germinate fully.
To be in any form, what is that? (Round and round we go, all of us,… If nothing lay more develop’d the… Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over…
The world below the brine, Forests at the bottom of the sea,… Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange… openings, and pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and gr…
Thou who hast slept all night upon… Waking renew’d on thy prodigious p… (Burst the wild storm? above it th… And rested on the sky, thy slave t… Now a blue point, far, far in heav…
That shadow my likeness that goes… chattering, chaffering, How often I find myself standing… How often I question and doubt wh… But among my lovers and caroling t…
I have heard what the talkers were… beginning and the end But I do not talk of the beginnin… There was never any more inception… Nor any more youth or age than the…
(Written in Platte Canyon, Color… Spirit that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and… These reckless heaven-ambitious pe… These gorges, turbulent-clear stre…
By broad Potomac’s shore, again o… (Still uttering, still ejaculating… Again old heart so gay, again to y… returning, Again the freshness and the odors,…
