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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

Book XXX. Whispers of Heavenly Death: Pensive and Faltering

Pensive and faltering,
The words the Dead I write,
For living are the Dead,
(Haply the only living, only real,
And I the apparition, I the spectre.)

#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass

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Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Twenty Years

Down on the ancient wharf, the san… He shipp’d as green-hand boy, and… vehement notion;) Since, twenty years and more have… While he the globe was circling ro…
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…
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Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: The Dead Tenor

As down the stage again, With Spanish hat and plumes, and… Back from the fading lessons of th… How much from thee! the revelation… (So firm—so liquid-soft—again that…
To the Reader at Parting

NOW, dearest comrade, lift me to… We must separate awhile—Here! tak… Whoever you are, I give it especi… So long!—And I hope we shall meet…
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Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone

Not meagre, latent boughs alone,… talons,) But haply for some sunny day (who… summer—bursting forth, To verdant leaves, or sheltering s…
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: Race of Veterans

Race of veterans—race of victors! Race of the soil, ready for confli… (No more credulity’s race, abiding… Race henceforth owning no law but… Race of passion and the storm.
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Book XXI. Drum-Taps: Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun

Give me the splendid silent sun wi… Give me autumnal fruit ripe and re… Give me a field where the unmow’d… Give me an arbor, give me the trel… Give me fresh corn and wheat, give…
Book XX. By The Roadside: Hast Never Come to Thee an Hour

Hast never come to thee an hour, A sudden gleam divine, precipitati… wealth? These eager business aims—books, p… To utter nothingness?
Book V. Calamus: I Dream’d in a Dream

I dream’d in a dream I saw a city… of the rest of the earth, I dream’d that was the new city of… Nothing was greater there than the… It was seen every hour in the acti…
Book IV. Children of Adam: I Heard You, Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ

I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of… pass’d the church, Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the… stretch’d sighs up above so mournf… I heard the perfect Italian tenor…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: As I Sit Writing Here

As I sit writing here, sick and g… Not my least burden is that dulnes… Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy… May filter in my dally songs.
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: My Canary Bird

Did we count great, O soul, to pe… Absorbing deep and full from thoug… But now from thee to me, caged bir… Filling the air, the lonesome room… Is it not just as great, O soul?
Book XX. By The Roadside: Perfections

Only themselves understand themsel… As souls only understand souls.
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Book XXX. Whispers of Heavenly Death: Quicksand Years

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,
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States!

STATES! Were you looking to be held togeth… By an agreement on a paper? Or by… Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond a…



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