#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Year of meteors! brooding year! I would bind in words retrospectiv… I would sing your contest for the… I would sing how an old man, tall,… scaffold in Virginia,
I sit and look out upon all the so… oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from… themselves, remorseful after deeds… I see, in low life, the mother mis…
We two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going—North… Power enjoying—elbows stretching—f… Arm’d and fearless—eating, drinkin…
Would you hear of an old-time sea-… Would you learn who won by the lig… List to the yarn, as my grandmothe… Our foe was no skulk in his ship… His was the surly English pluck,…
Tears! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears; On the white shore dripping, dripp… Tears—not a star shining—all dark… Moist tears from the eyes of a muf…
HOURS continuing long, sore and… Hours of the dusk, when I withdra… spot, seating myself, leaning my f… Hours sleepless, deep in the night… the country roads, or through the…
You who celebrate bygones, Who have explored the outward, the… has exhibited itself, Who have treated of man as the cre… and priests,
While my wife at my side lies slum… And my head on the pillow rests at… And through the stillness, through… of my infant, There in the room as I wake from…
I celebrate myself, and sing mysel… And what I assume you shall assum… For every atom belonging to me as… I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observ…
Who are you dusky woman, so ancien… With your woolly-white and turban’… Why rising by the roadside here, d… (’Tis while our army lines Caroli… Forth from thy hovel door thou Et…
Thanks in old age—thanks ere I go… For health, the midday sun, the im… For precious ever-lingering memori… father—you, brothers, sisters, fri… For all my days—not those of peace…
O sun of real peace! O Hastening… O free and extatic! O what I here… O the sun of the world will ascend… O so amazing and broad—up there re… O vision prophetic, stagger’d with…
I see the sleeping babe, nestling… mother; The sleeping mother and babe—hush’… long and long.
A child said, What is the grass?… hands; How could I answer the child?. .… is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my…
These are really the thoughts of a… If they are not yours as much as m… If they are not the riddle and the… If they are not just as close as t… This is the grass that grows where…