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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

This Day, O Soul

THIS day, O soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay—But the cloud
        has pass’d, and the tarnish gone;
…Behold, O soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

Sequel to Drum-Taps

#Americans #XIXCentury

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As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontario’s Shores

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, ...
The Wound Dresser

AN old man bending, I come, among… Years looking backward, resuming,… Come tell us, old man, as from you… (Arous’d and angry, I’d thought t… but soon my fingers fail’d me, my…
Book IV. Children of Adam: Native Moments

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…
Book XXXV. Good-Bye My Fancy: On, on the Same, Ye Jocund Twain!

On, on the same, ye jocund twain! My life and recitative, containing… Fitful as motley-tongues of flame,… one—combining all, My single soul—aims, confirmations…
Book IV. Children of Adam: O Hymen! O Hymenee!

O hymen! O hymenee! why do you ta… O why sting me for a swift moment… Why can you not continue? O why d… Is it because if you continued bey… soon certainly kill me?
Book IV. Children of Adam: I Am He That Aches With Love

I am he that aches with amorous lo… Does the earth gravitate? Does no… matter? So the Body of me, to all I meet,…
Book IV. Children of Adam: I Heard You, Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ

I heard you solemn-sweet pipes of… pass’d the church, Winds of autumn, as I walk’d the… stretch’d sighs up above so mournf… I heard the perfect Italian tenor…
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: To the Leaven’D Soil They Trod

To the leaven’d soil they trod cal… (Forth from my tent emerging for g… In the freshness the forenoon air,… again to peace restored, To the fiery fields emanative and…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Yonnondio

A song, a poem of itself—the word… Amid the wilds, the rocks, the sto… To me such misty, strange tableaux… Yonnondio— I see, far in the west or north, a…
Carol of Words

Earth, round, rolling, compact—sun… words to be said; Watery, vegetable, sauroid advance… of the future, Behold! these are vast words to be…
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Book XXI. Drum-Taps: Ethiopia Saluting the Colors

Who are you dusky woman, so ancien… With your woolly-white and turban’… Why rising by the roadside here, d… (’Tis while our army lines Caroli… Forth from thy hovel door thou Et…
Song of Myself, XXXI

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…
Song of Myself, XIII

The negro holds firmly the reins o… The negro that drives the long dra… His blue shirt exposes his ample n… His glance is calm and commanding,… The sun falls on his crispy hair a…
Book VI: Salut Au Monde

O take my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights… Such join’d unended links, each ho… Each answering all—each sharing th… What widens within you, Walt Whit…
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Book XXXIII. Songs Of Parting: As The Time Draws Nigh

As the time draws nigh glooming a… A dread beyond of I know not what… I shall go forth, I shall traverse the States awhil… Perhaps soon some day or night whi…



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