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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

Book XX. By The Roadside: The Runner

On a flat road runs the well-train’d runner,
He is lean and sinewy with muscular legs,
He is thinly clothed, he leans forward as he runs,
With lightly closed fists and arms partially rais’d.

Leaves of Grass

#AmericanWriters #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass

Otras obras de Walt Whitman...
Song of Myself, XXIV

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!
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Book XVII. Birds Of Passage: Myself and Mine

Myself and mine gymnastic ever, To stand the cold or heat, to take… manage horses, to beget superb chi… To speak readily and clearly, to f… And to hold our own in terrible po…
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Book XXI. Drum-Taps: O Tan-Faced Prairie-Boy

O tan-faced prairie-boy, Before you came to camp came many… Praises and presents came and nour… You came, taciturn, with nothing t… When lo! more than all the gifts o…
O Bitter Sprig! Confession Sprig!

O BITTER sprig! Confession spr… In the bouquet I give you place a… Proceeding no further till, humble… I give fair warning, once for all. I own that I have been sly, thiev…
Book XX. By The Roadside: To Rich Givers

What you give me, I cheerfully ac… A little sustenance, a hut and gar… rendezvous with my poems; A traveler’s lodging and breakfast… Why should I be ashamed to own su…
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: To the Leaven’D Soil They Trod

To the leaven’d soil they trod cal… (Forth from my tent emerging for g… In the freshness the forenoon air,… again to peace restored, To the fiery fields emanative and…
Book XXX. Whispers of Heavenly Death: As I Watch’D the Ploughman Ploughing

As I watch’d the ploughman plough… Or the sower sowing in the fields,… I saw there too, O life and death… (Life, life is the tillage, and D…
Book XIII: Song of the Exposition

(Ah little recks the laborer, How near his work is holding him t… The loving Laborer through space… After all not to create only, or f… But to bring perhaps from afar wha…
Song of Myself, XXI

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…
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Book XXXII. From Noon to Starry Night: Excelsior

Who has gone farthest? for I woul… And who has been just? for I woul… And who most cautious? for I woul… And who has been happiest? O I th… happier than I,
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Book XXIV. Autumn Rivulets: Italian Music in Dakota

(“The Seventeenth—the finest Regi… Through the soft evening air enwin… Rocks, woods, fort, cannon, pacing… In dulcet streams, in flutes’ and… Electric, pensive, turbulent, arti…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Halcyon Days

Not from successful love alone, Nor wealth, nor honor’d middle age… But as life wanes, and all the tur… As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues c… As softness, fulness, rest, suffus…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Continuities

Nothing is ever really lost, or ca… No birth, identity, form—no object… Nor life, nor force, nor any visib… Appearance must not foil, nor shif… Ample are time and space—ample the…
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: From Paumanok Starting I Fly Like a Bird

From Paumanok starting I fly like… Around and around to soar to sing… To the north betaking myself to si… To Kanada till I absorb Kanada i… To Wisconsin, Iowa, Minnesota, t…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: After the Dazzle of Day

After the dazzle of day is gone, Only the dark, dark night shows to… After the clangor of organ majesti… Silent, athwart my soul, moves the…



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