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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

The Ship

Lo! THE unbounded sea!
On its breast a Ship, spreading all her sails—an ample
        Ship, carrying even her moonsails;
The pennant is flying aloft, as she speeds, she
        speeds so stately—below, emulous waves press
        forward,
They surround the Ship, with shining curving motions,
        and foam.

Drum-Taps

#Americans #XIXCentury

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Book XXXIII. Songs Of Parting: So Long!

To conclude, I announce what come… I remember I said before my leave… I would raise my voice jocund and… When America does what was promis… When through these States walk a…
Book XXX. Whispers of Heavenly Death: Whispers of Heavenly Death

Whispers of heavenly death murmur’… Labial gossip of night, sibilant c… Footsteps gently ascending, mystic… Ripples of unseen rivers, tides of… (Or is it the plashing of tears? t…
Book XXXV. Good-Bye My Fancy: To the Sun-Set Breeze

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…
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Among the Multitude

AMONG the men and women, the mul… I perceive one picking me out by s… Acknowledging none else—not parent… any nearer than I am; Some are baffled—But that one is…
Book IV. Children of Adam: A Woman Waits for Me

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Book V. Calamus: Of the Terrible Doubt of Apperarances

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I have said that the soul is not m… And I have said that the body is… And nothing, not God, is greater… And whoever walks a furlong withou… And I or you pocketless of a dime…
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Song of Myself, XXX

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