#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
That coursing on, whate’er men’s s… Amid the changing schools, theolog… Amid the bawling presentations new… The round earth’s silent vital law…
Manhattan’s streets I saunter’d p… On Time, Space, Reality—on such… Prudence. The last explanation always remain… immortality.
COME closer to me; Push close, my lovers, and take th… Yield closer and closer, and give… This is unfinish’d business with m… (I was chill’d with the cold types…
The prairie-grass dividing—its spe… I demand of it the spiritual corre… Demand the most copious and close… Demand the blades to rise of words… Those of the open atmosphere, coar…
I hear it was charged against me t… But really I am neither for nor a… (What indeed have I in common wit… destruction of them?) Only I will establish in the Mann…
When I heard at the close of the… with plaudits in the capitol, stil… follow’d, And else when I carous’d, or when… was not happy,
Grand is the seen, the light, to m… Grand is the earth, and grand are… And grand their laws, so multiform… But grander far the unseen soul of… (What were all those, indeed, with…
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…
1 O TO make the most jubilant po… O full of music! Full of manhood,… fancy! O full of common employments! Ful… trees.
The appointed winners in a long-st… The course of Time and nations—Eg… The past entire, with all its hero… Its store of songs, inventions, vo… Garner’d for now and thee—To thin…
WOMEN sit, or move to and fro—so… some young; The young are beautiful—but the ol… young.
After a long, long course, hundred… Accumulations, rous’d love and joy… Hopes, wishes, aspirations, ponder… Coating, compassing, covering—afte… Then only may these songs reach fr…
In cabin’d ships at sea, The boundless blue on every side e… With whistling winds and music of… Or some lone bark buoy’d on the de… Where joyous full of faith, spread…
From far Dakota’s canyons, Lands of the wild ravine, the dusk… Haply to-day a mournful wall, hapl… The battle-bulletin, The Indian ambuscade, the craft,…
A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets… A song of farms—a song of the soil… A song with the smell of sun-dried… handle the pitch-fork;