#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
By the city dead-house by the gate… As idly sauntering wending my way… I curious pause, for lo, an outcas… Her corpse they deposit unclaim’d,… The divine woman, her body, I see…
(Volunteer of 1861-2, at Washingt… Centenarian.) Give me your hand old Revolutiona… The hill-top is nigh, but a few st… Up the path you have follow’d me w…
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…
The wild gander leads his flock th… Ya-honk he says, and sounds it dow… The pert may suppose it meaningles… Find its purpose and place up ther… The sharp-hoof’d moose of the nort…
THERE are who teach only the swe… But I teach lessons of war and de… That they readily meet invasions,…
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions… Of the endless trains of the faith… Of myself forever reproaching myse… and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the ligh…
Grand is the seen, the light, to m… Grand is the earth, and grand are… And grand their laws, so multiform… But grander far the unseen soul of… (What were all those, indeed, with…
An ancient song, reciting, ending, Once gazing toward thee, Mother o… Musing, seeking themes fitted for… Accept me, thou saidst, the elder… And name for me before thou goest…
AS a strong bird on pinions free, Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenw… Such be the thought I’d think to—… Such be the recitative I’d bring… The conceits of the poets of other…
Now list to my morning’s romanza,… To the cities and farms I sing as… A young man comes to me bearing a… How shall the young man know the w… Tell him to send me the signs. An…
To those who’ve fail’d, in aspirat… To unnam’d soldiers fallen in fron… To calm, devoted engineers—to over… their ships, To many a lofty song and picture w…
A voice from Death, solemn and st… With sudden, indescribable blow—to… thousands slain, The vaunted work of thrift, goods,… Dash’d pell-mell by the blow—yet u…
I believe in you my soul, the othe… And you must not be abased to the… Loafe with me on the grass, loose… Not words, not music or rhyme I w… Only the lull I like, the hum of…
A Glimpse, through an interstice… Of a crowd of workmen and drivers… late of a winter night—And I unre… Of a youth who loves me, and whom… seating himself near, that he may…
A song, a poem of itself—the word… Amid the wilds, the rocks, the sto… To me such misty, strange tableaux… Yonnondio— I see, far in the west or north, a…
