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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: As I Sit Writing Here
As I sit writing here, sick and grown old,
Not my least burden is that dulness of the years, querilities,
Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy, constipation, whimpering ennui,
May filter in my dally songs.

#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass

Other works by Walt Whitman...
Book IV. Children of Adam: From Pent-Up Aching Rivers

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…
 1
Song of Myself, XXXI

I believe a leaf of grass is no le… And the pismire is equally perfect… And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuv… And the running blackberry would a… And the narrowest hinge in my hand…
Book I. Inscriptions: In Cabin’D Ships at Sea

In cabin’d ships at sea, The boundless blue on every side e… With whistling winds and music of… Or some lone bark buoy’d on the de… Where joyous full of faith, spread…
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: Come Up From the Fields Father

Come up from the fields father, he… And come to the front door mother,… Lo, ’tis autumn, Lo, where the trees, deeper green,… Cool and sweeten Ohio’s villages…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me

You lingering sparse leaves of me… And I some well-shorn tree of fie… You tokens diminute and lorn—(not… clover-bloom—no grain of August no… You pallid banner-staves—you penna…
Book III: Song of Myself (37– 52)

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…
I Thought I Was Not Alone

I THOUGHT I was not alone, wal… But the one I thought was with me… As I lean and look through the gl… disappeared, And those appear that perplex me.
Song of Myself, XVII

These are really the thoughts of a… If they are not yours as much as m… If they are not the riddle and the… If they are not just as close as t… This is the grass that grows where…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Small the Theme of My Chant

Small the theme of my Chant, yet… simple, separate person. That, for… Man’s physiology complete, from to… alone, nor brain alone, is worthy… Muse;—I say the Form complete is…
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: A March in the Ranks Hard-Prest, and the Road Unknown

A march in the ranks hard-prest, a… A route through a heavy wood with… Our army foil’d with loss severe,… Till after midnight glimmer upon u… We come to an open space in the wo…
Book I. Inscriptions: To a Certain Cantatrice

Here, take this gift, I was reserving it for some hero,… One who should serve the good old… Some brave confronter of despots,… But I see that what I was reservi…
 1
Souvenirs of Democracy

THE business man, the acquirer va… After assiduous years, surveying r… Devises houses and lands to his ch… funds for a school or hospital, Leaves money to certain companions…
The Three Musicians, by Diego Velázquez
Book I. Inscriptions: Poets to Come

Poets to come! orators, singers, m… Not to-day is to justify me, and a… But you, a new brood, native, athl… Arouse! Arouse—for you must justi… I myself but write one or two indi…
 2
Book I. Inscriptions: On Journeys Through the States

On journeys through the States we… (Ay, through the world—urged by th… Sailing henceforth to every land—t… We, willing learners of all, teach… We have watch’d the seasons dispen…
Song of Myself, XIX

This is the meal equally set, this… It is for the wicked just the same… I will not have a single person sl… The kept-woman, sponger, thief, ar… The heavy-lipp’d slave is invited,…



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