#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! b… Through the windows—through doors—… Into the solemn church, and scatte… Into the school where the scholar… Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no…
IN former songs Pride have I sun… Life, But here I twine the strands of P… And now, Life, Pride, Love, Patr… To you, O FREEDOM, purport of…
PRIMEVAL my love for the woman… O bride! O wife! more resistless,… thought of you! Then separate, as disembodied, the… The ethereal, the last athletic re…
Here first the duties of to-day, t… Wealth, order, travel, shelter, pr… As of the building of some varied,… Whence to arise inevitable in time… The solid-planted spires tall shoo…
O MATER! O fils! O brood continental! O flowers of the prairies! O space boundless! O hum of might… O you teeming cities! O so invinc…
You sea! I resign myself to you a… I behold from the beach your crook… I believe you refuse to go back wi… We must have a turn together, I u… Cushion me soft, rock me in billow…
Proud music of the storm, Blast that careers so free, whistl… Strong hum of forest tree-tops—win… Personified dim shapes—you hidden… You serenades of phantoms with ins…
NOT my enemies ever invade me—no… them I fear; But the lovers I recklessly love—… Lo! me, ever open and helpless, be… Utterly abject, grovelling on the…
With music strong I come, with my… I play not marches for accepted vi… Have you heard that it was good to… I also say it is good to fall, bat… I beat and pound for the dead,
(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…
(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…
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,
America always! Always our own feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula!… Louisiana! Always the cotton—fiel… Always California’s golden hills…
NOW I make a leaf of Voices—for… they are, And I have found that no word spo… O what is it in me that makes me t… Surely, whoever speaks to me in th…
You lingering sparse leaves of me… And I some well-shorn tree of fie… You tokens diminute and lorn—(not… clover-bloom—no grain of August no… You pallid banner-staves—you penna…