#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
Approaching, nearing, curious, Thou dim, uncertain spectre—bringe… Strength, weakness, blindness, mor… Or placid skies and sun? Wilt sti… Or haply cut me short for good? O…
SOLID, ironical, rolling orb! Master of all, and matter of fact!… terms; Bringing to practical, vulgar test… dreams,
Sometimes with one I love I fill… unreturn’d love, But now I think there is no unret… or another (I loved a certain person ardently…
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…
Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else b… Whether I walk the streets of Man… Or dart my sight over the roofs of… Or wade with naked feet along the…
Afoot and light-hearted I take to… Healthy, free, the world before me… The long brown path before me, lea… Henceforth I ask not good-fortune… Henceforth I whimper no more, pos…
Weapon shapely, naked, wan, Head from the mother’s bowels draw… Wooded flesh and metal bone, limb… Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown,… Resting the grass amid and upon,
THIS day, O soul, I give you a… Long in the dark, in tarnish and c… has pass’d, and the tarnish gone; …Behold, O soul! it is now a clea… Faithfully showing you all the thi…
Whoever you are, I fear you are w… I fear these supposed realities ar… Even now your features, joys, spee… Your true soul and body appear bef… They stand forth out of affairs, o…
Hold it up sternly—see this it sen… Outside fair costume, within ashes… No more a flashing eye, no more a… Now some slave’s eye, voice, hands… A drunkard’s breath, unwholesome e…
It is time to explain myself’let… What is known I strip away, I launch all men and women forward… The clock indicates the moment’b… We have thus far exhausted trillio…
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…
I was looking a long while for the… It is not in those paged fables in… It is no more in the legends than… It is in the present—it is this ea… It is in Democracy—in this Americ…
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins <… O drops of me! trickle, slow drops… Candid, from me falling—drip, blee… From wounds made to free you whenc… From my face—from my forehead and…
These I singing in spring collect… (For who but I should understand… And who but I should be the poet… Collecting I traverse the garden… Now along the pond-side, now wadin…