#Americans #XIXCentury #1855 #LeavesOfGrass
ll, and here again he lies.A sight… As from my tent I emerge so early… As slow I walk in the cool fresh… Three forms I see on stretchers l… Over each the blanket spread, ampl…
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…
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,
The last sunbeam Lightly falls from the finish’d S… On the pavement here, and there be… Down a new-made double grave. Lo, the moon ascending,
Quicksand years that whirl me I k… Your schemes, politics, fail, line… Only the theme I sing, the great… One’s-self must never give way—tha… all is sure,
A Woman waits for me—she contains… Yet all were lacking, if sex were… right man were lacking. Sex contains all, Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs,…
How dare one say it? After the cycles, poems, singers,… Vaunted Ionia’s, India’s –Homer,… dotted roads, areas, The shining clusters and the Milk…
Spontaneous me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun,… The arm of my friend hanging idly… The hill-side whiten’d with blosso… The same, late in autumn—the hues…
Full of life, now, compact, visibl… I, forty years old the Eighty-thi… To one a century hence, or any num… To you, yet unborn, these, seeking… When you read these, I, that was…
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…
Women sit or move to and fro, some… The young are beautiful—but the ol…
Not heat flames up and consumes, Not sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air, delicious and dry, th… lightly along white down-balls of… Wafted, sailing gracefully, to dro…
Are you the new person drawn towar… To begin with take warning, I am… Do you suppose you will find in me… Do you think it so easy to have me… Do you think the friendship me wou…
A California song, A prophecy and indirection, a thou… A chorus of dryads, fading, depart… A murmuring, fateful, giant voice,… Voice of a mighty dying tree in th…
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…
