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Search : River
Work title : One Hour To Madness And Joy

10 results

Leaves of Grass (1867)

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the river!

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?

four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl; I see where the

Let books take the place of trees, animals, rivers, clouds!

Cluster: Children of Adam. (1867)

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

FROM pent-up, aching rivers; From that of myself, without which I were nothing; From what I am determin'd

The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body, The circling rivers

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft

Leaves of Grass (1871)

  • Date: 1871
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the river!

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?

I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl; I see

Let books take the place of trees, animals, rivers, clouds!

Cluster: Children of Adam. (1871)

  • Date: 1871
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

FROM pent-up, aching rivers; From that of myself, without which I were nothing; From what I am determin'd

The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body, The circling rivers

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft

Cluster: Children of Adam. (1881)

  • Date: 1881–1882
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

FROM pent-up aching rivers, From that of myself without which I were nothing, From what I am determin'd

The curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body, The circling rivers

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft

Leaves of Grass (1881–1882)

  • Date: 1881–1882
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

I see the long river-stripes of the earth, I see the Amazon and the Paraguay, I see the four great rivers

River and sunset and scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide?

O boating on the rivers, The voyage down the St.

Leaves of Grass (1860–1861)

  • Date: 1860–1861
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the river!

Let books take the place of trees, animals, rivers, clouds!

What rivers are these? What forests and fruits are these?

see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, the Yiang-tse, and the Pearl; I see

O boating on the rivers! The voyage down the Niagara, (the St.

Cluster: Enfans D'adam. (1860)

  • Date: 1860–1861
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

From the pent up rivers of myself, From the hungry gnaw that eats me night and day, From native moments—from

when feeling with the hand the naked meat of his own body, or another person's body, The circling rivers

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft

Leaves of Grass (1891–1892)

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

I see the long river-stripes of the earth, I see the Amazon and the Paraguay, I see the four great rivers

River and sunset and scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide?

O boating on the rivers, The voyage down the St.

Cluster: Children of Adam. (1891)

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

FROM PENT-UP ACHING RIVERS.

FROM pent-up aching rivers, From that of myself without which I were nothing, From what I am determin'd

The curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body, The circling rivers

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself, In you I wrap a thousand onward years, On you I graft

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