Search Results

O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless! O ample and grand Presidentiads! New history!

(I must not venture—the ground under my feet men- aces menaces me—it will not support me;) O present!

New Orleans, San Francisco, The departing ships, when the sailors heave at the capstan; Evening—me in my

room—the setting sun, The setting summer sun shining in my open window, showing the swarm of flies,

, futurity, In space, the sporades, the scattered islands, the stars —on the firm earth, the lands, my

less in myself than the whole of the Manna- hatta Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my

my lands are inevitably united, and made ONE IDENTITY; Nativities, climates, the grass of the great

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo!

there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient; I see that the word of my

my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!

I walk'd the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant,

I maintain the be- queath bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris with my

it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my

AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it

if that were not the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my

poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems; As if here

MY spirit to yours, dear brother; Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you

I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others also;) I specify you with joy, O my

divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side, They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my

Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-

that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any more than this shall be the end of my

And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?

(As if any man really knew aught of my life; As if you, O cunning Soul, did not keep your secret well

. 1 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my

alarm'd, uncertain, The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my

My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long

stretch of my life.

is my mind!

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!

and let one line of my poems contra- dict contradict another!

Let him who is without my poems be assassinated!

BY the City Dead-House, by the gate, As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause—for

take one breath from my tremulous lips; Take one tear, dropt aside as I go, for thought of you, Dead

only out of the inimitable poem of the wo- man woman , can come the poems of man—(only thence have my

arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them, than I ignore my

I am de- termin determin'd to press my way toward you; Sound your voice!

Now List to My Morning's Romanza NOW LIST TO MY MORNING'S ROMANZA.

NOW list to my morning's romanza; To the cities and farms I sing, as they spread in the sunshine before

And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand, and his left

hand in my right hand, And I answer'd for his brother, and for men, and I answer'd for THE POET, and

to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!

How perfect is my Soul! How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it!

My Soul! if I realize you, I have satisfaction, Animals and vegetables!

I cannot define my satisfaction, yet it is so, I cannot define my life, yet it is so. 11 It comes to

the still woods I loved; I will not go now on the pastures to walk; I will not strip the clothes from my

body to meet my lover the sea; I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me

I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceiv'd; I will run a furrow with my plough—I

will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up under- neath underneath ; I am sure I shall expose

transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

knows, aught of them;) May-be seeming to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my

from entirely changed points of view; —To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously answer'd by my

lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the

appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave; But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my

I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior—I will tell you what to say of me; Publish my

name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover, The friend, the lover's portrait, of whom

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still

it was not a happy night for me that fol- low follow'd ; And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans

ing undressing , bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, And when I thought how my

all that day my food nourish'd me more—and the beautiful day pass'd well, And the next came with equal

joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend; And that night, while all was still, I heard the

perfumes, nor the high, rain- emitting rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air, Any more than my

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was conceal'd —press forth, red drops—confession

in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied; And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my

nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them; Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my

your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my own—these

BEHOLD this swarthy face, this unrefined face—these gray eyes, This beard—the white wool, unclipt upon my

neck, My brown hands, and the silent manner of me, with- out without charm; Yet comes one, a Manhattanese

leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss, And brought it away—and I have placed it in sight in my

room; It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends, (For I believe lately I think of little

or a girl with me, I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my

body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard,

; And it seems to me if I could know those men, I should become attached to them, as I do to men in my

HERE the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- lasting strongest-lasting : Here I shade down and

hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.

What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand? WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND?

WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!

Then separate, as disembodied, or another born, Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation;

I ascend—I float in the regions of your love, O man, O sharer of my roving life.

no unreturn'd love—the pay is certain, one way or another; (I loved a certain person ardently, and my

That Shadow, My Likeness THAT SHADOW, MY LIKENESS.

THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seek- ing seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering

it where it flits; How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But in these, and among my

lovers, and carolling my songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.

smoke; By these, crowds, groups of forms, vaguely I see, on the floor, some in the pews laid down; At my

staunch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white as a lily;) Then before I depart I sweep my

resume as I chant—I see again the forms, I smell the odor; Then hear outside the orders given, Fall in, my

A SIGHT in camp in the day-break grey and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early, sleepless, As slow

Who are you, my dear comrade? Then to the second I step—And who are you, my child and darling?

world, a rural domestic life; Give me to warble spontaneous songs, reliev'd, recluse by myself, for my

excitement, and rack'd by the war-strife;) These to procure, incessantly asking, rising in cries from my

heart, While yet incessantly asking, still I adhere to my city; Day upon day, and year upon year, O

enrich'd of soul—you give me forever faces; (O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my

cries; I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.) 2 Keep your splendid silent sun; Keep your

—therefore leave my works, And go lull yourself with what you can understand; For I lull nobody—and you

indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) I would sing in my

know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my

love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my

bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her moving swiftly

ON my northwest coast in the midst of the night, a fishermen's group stands watching; Out on the lake

the air I breathed froze me; A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me; Must I change my

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests

at home, and the mys- tic mystic midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear

, just hear, the breath of my infant, There in the room, as I wake from sleep, this vision presses upon

with eager calls, and orders of officers; While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my

or near, (rousing, even in dreams, a devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the depths of my

AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

ONE breath, O my silent soul, A perfum'd thought—no more I ask, for the sake of all dead soldiers.

Buglers off in my armies!

At present I ask not you to sound; Not at the head of my cavalry, all on their spirited horses, With

Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my compan- ions companions ; Follow me ever!

Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!

love, spit their salutes; When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me— when heaven-clouds canopy my

See, my cantabile!

For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this pageant; I am the chanter—I chant aloud over the

pageant; I chant the world on my Western Sea; I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in

chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those groups of sea-islands; I chant my

might afterward lose you. 2 (Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe; Return in peace to the ocean my

love; I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated; Behold the great rondure—the

space—know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the land, Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my