#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Quicksand years that whirl me I k… Your schemes, politics, fail, line… Only the theme I sing, the great… One’s-self must never give way—tha… all is sure,
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhat… Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating… No sentimentalist, no stander abov… No more modest than immodest. Unscrew the locks from the doors!
When lilacs last in the dooryard b… And the great star early droop’d i… I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn wit… Ever-returning spring, trinity sur… Lilac blooming perennial and droop…
EARTH, round, rolling, compact—s… mals—all these are words to be sai… Watery, vegetable, sauroid advance… tions, lispings of the future, Behold! these are vast words to be…
As I sit with others at a great f… To my mind, (whence it comes I kn… at sea, Of certain ships, how they sail fr… wafted kisses, and that is the las…
Ah, whispering, something again, u… Where late this heated day thou en… Thou, laving, tempering all, cool-… Me, old, alone, sick, weak-down, m… Thou, nestling, folding close and…
Who are you dusky woman, so ancien… With your woolly-white and turban’… Why rising by the roadside here, d… (’Tis while our army lines Caroli… Forth from thy hovel door thou Et…
Behavior—fresh, native, copious, e… Nature and the Soul expressed—Ame… the finest art, In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy… In it physique, intellect, faith—i…
A song of the rolling earth, and o… Were you thinking that those were… curves, angles, dots? No, those are not the words, the s… and sea,
Welcome, Brazilian brother—thy am… A loving hand—a smile from the nor… (Let the future care for itself, w… Ours, ours the present throe, the… the faith;)
Come said the Muse, Sing me a song no poet yet has cha… Sing me the universal. In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and…
Houses and rooms are full of perfu… I breathe the fragrance myself and… The distillation would intoxicate… The atmosphere is not a perfume, i… It is for my mouth forever, I am…
Has any one supposed it lucky to b… I hasten to inform him or her it i… I pass death with the dying and bi… And peruse manifold objects, no tw… The earth good and the stars good,…
To-day, from each and all, a breat… To memory of Him—to birth of Him.
What think you I take my pen in h… The battle-ship, perfect-model’d,… offing to-day under full sail? The splendors of the past day? Or… envelopes me?