#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #FreeVerse #LeavesOfGrass
How dare one say it? After the cycles, poems, singers,… Vaunted Ionia’s, India’s –Homer,… dotted roads, areas, The shining clusters and the Milk…
From east and west across the hori… Two mighty masterful vessels saile… But we’ll make race a-time upon th… lively there! (Our joys of strife and derring-do…
With antecedents, With my fathers and mothers and th… With all which, had it not been,… With Egypt, India, Phenicia, Gre… With the Kelt, the Scandinavian,…
WHAT General has a good army in… He happy in himself, or she happy… But I tell you you cannot be happ… beget or conceive a child by other…
To thee old cause! Thou peerless, passionate, good ca… Thou stern, remorseless, sweet ide… Deathless throughout the ages, rac… After a strange sad war, great war…
(“The Seventeenth—the finest Regi… Through the soft evening air enwin… Rocks, woods, fort, cannon, pacing… In dulcet streams, in flutes’ and… Electric, pensive, turbulent, arti…
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;
When his hour for death had come, He slowly rais’d himself from the… Drew on his war-dress, shirt, legg… waist, Call’d for vermilion paint (his lo…
For the lands, and for these passi… Now I awhile return to thee, O so… Reclining on thy breast, giving my… Answering the pulses of thy sane a… Tuning a verse for thee.
From all the rest I single out yo… You are to die—let others tell you… I am exact and merciless, but I l… Softly I lay my right hand upon y… I do not argue, I bend my head cl…
NOW I make a leaf of Voices—for… they are, And I have found that no word spo… O what is it in me that makes me t… Surely, whoever speaks to me in th…
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,…
THERE are who teach only the swe… But I teach lessons of war and de… That they readily meet invasions,…
The big doors of the country barn… The dried grass of the harvest-tim… The clear light plays on the brown… The armfuls are pack’d to the sagg… I am there, I help, I came stretc…
While not the past forgetting, To-day, at least, contention sunk… For sign reciprocal our Northern,… Lay on the graves of all dead sold… (Nor for the past alone—for meanin…
