#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
This dust was once the Man, Gentle, plain, just and resolute—u… Against the foulest crime in histo… Was saved the Union of These Sta…
In some unused lagoon, some namele… On sluggish, lonesome waters, anch… An old, dismasted, gray and batter… After free voyages to all the seas… tight,
I see the sleeping babe, nestling… mother; The sleeping mother and babe—hush’… long and long.
A thousand perfect men and women a… Around each gathers a cluster of f… with offerings.
Over the Western sea hither from… Courteous, the swart-cheek’d two-s… Leaning back in their open barouch… Ride to-day through Manhattan. Libertad! I do not know whether o…
ONE song, America, before I go, I’d sing, o’er all the rest, with… For thee—the Future. I’d sow a seed for thee of endless… I’d fashion thy Ensemble, includi…
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—…
I am the poet of the Body and I a… The pleasures of heaven are with m… The first I graft and increase up… I am the poet of the woman the sam… And I say it is as great to be a…
1 An old man bending, I come, am… Years looking backward, resuming,… dren, Come tell us old man, as from youn… that love me;
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…
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…
The touch of flame—the illuminatin… O’er city, passion, sea—o’er prair… The airy, different, changing hues… Objects and groups, bearings, face… The calmer sight—the golden settin…
Good-bye my fancy—(I had a word t… But ’tis not quite the time—The b… Is when its proper place arrives—a… I keep mine till the last.)
Roots and leaves themselves alone… Scents brought to men and women fr… pond-side, Breast-sorrel and pinks of love—fi… than vines,
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