#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #FreeVerse #LeavesOfGrass
IN clouds descending, in midnight… Of the look at first of the mortal… Of the dead on their backs, with a… I dream, I dream, I dream. Of scenes of nature, the fields an…
After the sea-ship, after the whis… After the white-gray sails taut to… Below, a myriad myriad waves haste… Tending in ceaseless flow toward t… Waves of the ocean bubbling and gu…
As I sit in twilight late alone b… Musing on long-pass’d war-scenes—o… Of the vacant names, as unindented… The brief truce after battle, with… trenches
Starting from fish-shape Paumanok… Well-begotten, and rais’d by a per… After roaming many lands, lover of… Dweller in Mannahatta my city, or… Or a soldier camp’d or carrying my…
By blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these warlike days… that return no more, A Phantom gigantic superb, with s… Chant me the poem, it said, that c…
Despairing cries float ceaselessly… The sad voice of Death—the call o… alarmed, uncertain, “This sea I am quickly to sail, c… Come tell me where I am speeding—…
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…
Delicate cluster! flag of teeming… Covering all my lands—all my seash… Flag of death! (how I watch’d you… pressing! How I heard you flap and rustle,…
Over the carnage rose prophetic a… Be not dishearten’d, affection sha… Those who love each other shall be… They shall yet make Columbia vict… Sons of the Mother of All, you sh…
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;)
OF the visages of things—And of p… hells beneath; Of ugliness—To me there is just a… beauty—And now the ugliness of hum… me;
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…
Out of the cradle endlessly rockin… Out of the mocking-bird’s throat,… Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands and the fie… bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, ba…
One hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not! (What is this that frees me so in… What do my shouts amid lightnings… O to drink the mystic deliria deep…
If I should need to name, O West… and show, ’Twould not be you, Niagara—nor y… huge rifts of canyons, Colorado, Nor you, Yosemite—nor Yellowstone…
