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where men have not yet sail'd, the farthest polar sea, ripply, crystalline, open, beyond the floes, White

tree tops, Below, the red cedar festoon'd with tylandria, the pines and cypresses growing out of the white

wind, The camp of Georgia wagoners just after dark, the supper-fires and the cooking and eating by whites

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

of the grape, Welcome are lands of sugar and rice, Welcome the cotton-lands, welcome those of the white

, the falling in line, the rise and fall of the arms forcing the water, The slender, spasmic, blue-white

murderer with haggard face and pinion'd arms, The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and white-lipp'd

Behold, the sea itself, And on its limitless, heaving breast, the ships; See, where their white sails

light-green sheath, Gather the hay to its myriad mows in the odorous tranquil barns, Oats to their bins, the white

The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass and white and red morning-glories, and white and

at sunset, the river between, Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white

grave an ancient sorrowful mother, Once a queen, now lean and tatter'd seated on the ground, Her old white

cold ground with fore- head forehead between your knees, O you need not sit there veil'd in your old white

Or white-domed capitol with majestic figure surmounted, or all the old high-spired cathedrals, That little

some are such beautiful animals, so lofty looking; Some are buff-color'd, some mottled, one has a white

Sister of loftiest gods, Alboni's self I hear.) 4 I hear those odes, symphonies, operas, I hear in the William

The wretched features of ennuyés, the white features of corpses, the livid faces of drunkards, the sick-gray

and even to his head, he strikes out with courageous arms, he urges himself with his legs, I see his white

meas- ureless measureless love, and the son holds the father in his arms with measureless love, The white

hair of the mother shines on the white wrist of the daughter, The breath of the boy goes with the breath

buckle the straps carefully, Outdoors arming, indoors arming, the flash of the musket-barrels, The white

setting in toward land, The great steady wind from west or west-by-south, Floating so buoyant with milk-white

, I was refresh'd by the storm, I watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves, I mark'd the white

Some emerge on the opposite bank, others are just entering the ford—while, Scarlet and blue and snowy white

now the single figure to me, Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio with all its cities and farms, Sickly white

bleeding to death, (he is shot in the abdomen,) I stanch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white

Then to the third—a face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory; Young man

of the rifle-balls, I see the shells exploding leaving small white clouds, I hear the great shells shrieking

WHO are you dusky woman, so ancient hardly human, With your woolly-white and turban'd head, and bare

WORLD take good notice, silver stars fading, Milky hue ript, weft of white detaching, Coals thirty-eight

again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced

and still in the coffin—I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the

Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!

surrounding cloud that will not free my soul. 3 In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd

wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white

I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris

venerable and innocent joys, Perennial hardy life of me with joys 'mid rain and many a summer sun, And the white

you. 4 The sum of all known reverence I add up in you whoever you are, The President is there in the White

All architecture is what you do to it when you look upon it, (Did you think it was in the white or gray

bars of pig-iron, the strong clean-shaped T-rail for rail- roads railroads , Oil-works, silk-works, white-lead-works

signs, I would sing your contest for the 19th Presidentiad, I would sing how an old man, tall, with white

Winds blowsouth, or winds blow north, Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white

What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud!

Me and mine, loose windrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See, from my dead lips

In the night, in solitude, tears, On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand, Tears

and seeds, the thick tangle, openings, and pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white

piercing and pealing, Waves, air, midnight, their savagest trinity lashing, Out in the shadows there milk-white

wending, Steadily, slowly, through hoarse roar never remitting, Along the midnight edge by those milk-white

AFTER the sea-ship, after the whistling winds, After the white-gray sails taut to their spars and ropes

For shame old maniacs—bring down those toss'd arms, and let your white hair be, Here gape your great

the little islands, the larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white

O the huge sob—A few bubbles—the white foam spirting up—And then the women gone, Sinking there, while

Debris 10 ONE sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profuse white hair, He has the simple magnificence

shall see how I stump clergymen, and confound them, You shall see me showing a scarlet tomato, and a white

The wretched features of ennuyés, the white features of corpses, the livid faces of drunkards, the sick

sweet eating and drinking, Laps life-swelling yolks—laps ear of rose-corn, milky and just ripened; The white

and even to his head— he strikes out with courageous arms—he urges himself with his legs, I see his white

his arms with measureless love, and the son holds the father in his arms with measureless love, The white

hair of the mother shines on the white wrist of the daughter, The breath of the boy goes with the breath

A huge sob—a few bubbles—the white foam spirting up—and then the women gone, Sinking there while the

the unearthly cry, Its veins down the neck distend, its eyes roll till they show nothing but their whites

Off the word I have spoken I except not one—red, white, black, are all deific, In each house is the ovum

soiree, I heard what the singers were singing so long, Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the white

She sits in an armchair under the shaded porch of the farmhouse, The sun just shines on her old white

The cactus guarded with thorns, the laurel-tree with large white flowers, The range afar, the richness

sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white

NOT alone those camps of white, old comrades of the wars, When as order'd forward, after a long march

Let the white person tread the black person under his heel! (Say!

We, loose winrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See!

The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and

you white or black owners of slaves! You owned persons, dropping sweat-drops or blood- drops!

pass up or down, white-sailed schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations!

We, loose winrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See!

The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and

afar at sunset— the river between, Shadows, aureola and mist, light falling on roofs and gables of white

the thick tangle, the openings, and the pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white

beauty of person, The shape of his head, the richness and breadth of his manners, the pale yellow and white

swelling and deliciously aching, Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow

Examine these limbs, red, black, or white—they are so cunning in tendon and nerve, They shall be stript

hurry in and out, Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe summer, bears lightly along white

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

O the huge sob—A few bubbles—the white foam spirting up—And then the women gone, Sinking there, while

ONE sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profuse white hair, He has the simple magnificence of health

shall see how I stump clergymen, and confound them, You shall see me showing a scarlet tomato, and a white