#1855 #AmericanWriters #LeavesOfGrass
(Volunteer of 1861-2, at Washingt… Centenarian.) Give me your hand old Revolutiona… The hill-top is nigh, but a few st… Up the path you have follow’d me w…
My city’s fit and noble name resum… Choice aboriginal name, with marve… A rocky founded island—shores wher… going, hurrying sea waves.
Somehow I cannot let it go yet, f… Let it remain back there on its na… With pink, blue, yellow, all blanc… One wither’d rose put years ago fo… But I do not forget thee. Hast th…
I see in you the estuary that enla… in the great sea.
Native moments—when you come upon… Give me now libidinous joys only, Give me the drench of my passions,… To-day I go consort with Nature’s… I am for those who believe in loos…
Endless unfolding of words of ages… And mine a word of the modern, the… A word of the faith that never bal… Here or henceforward it is all the… It alone is without flaw, it alone…
O me, man of slack faith so long, Standing aloof, denying portions s… Only aware to-day of compact all-d… Discovering to-day there is no lie… grows as inevitably upon itself as…
The world below the brine, Forests at the bottom of the sea,… Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange… openings, and pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and gr…
Darest thou now O soul, Walk out with me toward the unknow… Where neither ground is for the fe… No map there, nor guide, Nor voice sounding, nor touch of h…
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…
Pensive and faltering, The words the Dead I write, For living are the Dead, (Haply the only living, only real, And I the apparition, I the spect…
ONE sweeps by, attended by an imm… All emblematic of peace—not a sold… One sweeps by, old, with black eye… He has the simple magnificence of… His face strikes as with flashes o…
Aboard at a ship’s helm, A young steersman steering with ca… Through fog on a sea-coast doleful… An ocean-bell—O a warning bell, r… O you give good notice indeed, you…
I believe a leaf of grass is no le… And the pismire is equally perfect… And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuv… And the running blackberry would a… And the narrowest hinge in my hand…
Not heaving from my ribb’d breast… Not in sighs at night, in rage, di… Not in those long-drawn, ill-suppr… Not in many an oath and promise br… Not in my wilful and savage soul’s…