#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
I have heard what the talkers were… beginning and the end But I do not talk of the beginnin… There was never any more inception… Nor any more youth or age than the…
Night on the prairies, The supper is over, the fire on th… The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt… I walk by myself—I stand and look… realized before.
A promise to California, Also to the great Pastoral Plains… Sojourning east a while longer, so… to teach robust American love; For I know very well that I and r…
As toilsome I wander’d Virginia’s… To the music of rustling leaves ki… I mark’d at the foot of a tree the… Mortally wounded he and buried on… understand,)
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!
YEARS of the unperform’d! your h… parting away for more august drama… I see not America only—I see not… but other nations preparing; I see tremendous entrances and exi…
From all the rest I single out yo… You are to die—let others tell you… I am exact and merciless, but I l… Softly I lay my right hand upon y… I do not argue, I bend my head cl…
A great year and place A harsh discordant natal scream ou… heart closer than any yet. I walk’d the shores of my Eastern… Heard over the waves the little vo…
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…
(Written in Platte Canyon, Color… Spirit that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and… These reckless heaven-ambitious pe… These gorges, turbulent-clear stre…
By blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these warlike days… that return no more, A Phantom gigantic superb, with s… Chant me the poem, it said, that c…
WHILE my wife at my side lies sl… are over long, And my head on the pillow rests at… tic midnight passes, And through the stillness, through…
Year that trembled and reel’d bene… Your summer wind was warm enough,… A thick gloom fell through the sun… Must I change my triumphant songs… Must I indeed learn to chant the…
I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider brea… He most honors my style who learns… The boy I love, the same becomes… Wicked rather than virtuous out of…
Not meagre, latent boughs alone,… talons,) But haply for some sunny day (who… summer—bursting forth, To verdant leaves, or sheltering s…
