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Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman

What General Has a Good Army

WHAT General has a good army in himself, has a good army;
  He happy in himself, or she happy in herself, is happy,
  But I tell you you cannot be happy by others, any more than you can
        beget or conceive a child by others.

#Americans #XIXCentury

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Man Fishing, by Robert S. Duncanson
Book V. Calamus: To a Stranger

Passing stranger! you do not know… You must be he I was seeking, or… I have somewhere surely lived a li… All is recall’d as we flit by each… You grew up with me, were a boy wi…
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Book V. Calamus: Are You the New Person, Drawn Toward Me?

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…
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Among the Multitude

AMONG the men and women, the mul… I perceive one picking me out by s… Acknowledging none else—not parent… any nearer than I am; Some are baffled—But that one is…
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 XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Death of General Grant

As one by one withdraw the lofty a… From that great play on history’s… That lurid, partial act of war and… Fought out through wrath, fears, d… All past—and since, in countless g…
Book I. Inscriptions: Eidolons

I met a seer, Passing the hues and objects of th… The fields of art and learning, pl… To glean eidolons. Put in thy chants said he,
Book XXXV. Good-Bye My Fancy: Bravo, Paris Exposition!

Add to your show, before you close… With all the rest, visible, concre… and ores, Our sentiment wafted from many mil… (We grand-sons and great-grandsons…
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Book XXXV. Good-Bye My Fancy: Unseen Buds

Unseen buds, infinite, hidden well… Under the snow and ice, under the… Like babes in wombs, latent, folde… Billions of billions, and trillion… (On earth and in the sea—the unive…
Song of Myself, IX

The big doors of the country barn… The dried grass of the harvest-tim… The clear light plays on the brown… The armfuls are pack’d to the sagg… I am there, I help, I came stretc…
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, XLI

I am he bringing help for the sick… And for strong upright men I brin… I heard what was said of the unive… Heard it and heard it of several t… It is middling well as far as it g…
The Dead Soldier, by Joseph Wright of Derby
Book XXI. Drum-Taps: Reconciliation

Word over all, beautiful as the sk… Beautiful that war and all its dee… That the hands of the sisters Dea… again, and ever again, this solid… For my enemy is dead, a man divine…
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Burial

1 To think of it! To think of time—of all that retro… To think of to—day and the ages co… forward! 2 Have you guess’d you yourself w…
Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Small the Theme of My Chant

Small the theme of my Chant, yet… simple, separate person. That, for… Man’s physiology complete, from to… alone, nor brain alone, is worthy… Muse;—I say the Form complete is…
Book XIX. Sea-Drift: On the Beach at Night

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