#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
Pensive, on her dead gazing, I he… Desperate, on the torn bodies, on… battle-fields gazing; As she call’d to her earth with mo… stalk’d:
Stranger! if you, passing, meet me… speak to me, why should you not sp… And why should I not speak to you…
For his o’erarching and last lesso… In the fresh scent of the morning… On the slope of a teeming Persian… Under an ancient chestnut-tree wid… Spoke to the young priests and stu…
Scented herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write,… Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing… Perennial roots, tall leaves—O th… delicate leaves,
Be composed—be at ease with me—I… Not till the sun excludes you, do… Not till the waters refuse to glis… My girl, I appoint with you an ap… charge you that you make preparati…
A newer garden of creation, no pri… Dense, joyous, modern, populous mi… With iron interlaced, composite, t… By all the world contributed—freed… The crown and teeming paradise, so…
BROTHER of all, with generous h… Of thee, pondering on thee, as o’e… A thought to launch in memory of t… A burial verse for thee. What may we chant, O thou within…
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…
The commonplace I sing; How cheap is health! how cheap nob… Abstinence, no falsehood, no glutt… The open air I sing, freedom, tol… (Take here the mainest lesson—less…
After a long, long course, hundred… Accumulations, rous’d love and joy… Hopes, wishes, aspirations, ponder… Coating, compassing, covering—afte… Then only may these songs reach fr…
I SAY whatever tastes sweet to t… —That is finally right. I SAY the human shape or face is… never be made ridiculous; I say for ornaments nothing outré…
To think of time—of all that retro… To think of to-day, and the ages c… Have you guess’d you yourself woul… Have you dreaded these earth-beetl… Have you fear’d the future would b…
What am I, after all, but a child… name? repeating it over and over; I stand apart to hear—it never tir… To you, your name also; Did you think there was nothing bu…
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me; Chant me the poem, it said, ...
Twenty-eight young men bathe by th… Twenty-eight young men and all so… Twenty-eight years of womanly life… She owns the fine house by the ris… She hides handsome and richly dres…
