#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
O you whom I often and silently c… with you; As I walk by your side, or sit ne… you, Little you know the subtle electri…
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…
Come my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your wea… Have you your pistols? have you yo… Pioneers! O pioneers! For we cannot tarry here,
SO far, and so far, and on toward… Singing what is sung in this book,… me; But whether I continue beyond thi… Whether I shall dart forth the tr…
I think I could turn and live wit… I stand and look at them long and… They do not sweat and whine about… They do not lie awake in the dark… They do not make me sick discussin…
In some unused lagoon, some namele… On sluggish, lonesome waters, anch… An old, dismasted, gray and batter… After free voyages to all the seas… tight,
Hark, some wild trumpeter, some st… Hovering unseen in air, vibrates c… I hear thee trumpeter, listening a… Now pouring, whirling like a tempe… Now low, subdued, now in the dista…
After the supper and talk—after th… As a friend from friends his final… Good-bye and Good-bye with emotio… (So hard for his hand to release t… No more for communion of sorrow an…
NOW, dearest comrade, lift me to… We must separate awhile—Here! tak… Whoever you are, I give it especi… So long!—And I hope we shall meet…
Look down fair moon and bathe this… Pour softly down night’s nimbus fl… On the dead on their backs with ar… Pour down your unstinted nimbus sa…
TRICKLE, drops! my blue veins <… O drops of me! trickle, slow drops… Candid, from me falling—drip, blee… From wounds made to free you whenc… From my face—from my forehead and…
A child said What is the grass? f… How could I answer the child? I d… I guess it must be the flag of my… Or I guess it is the handkerchief… A scented gift and remembrancer de…
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…
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…
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, ...