Leaves of GrassD. McKay, 1883 - Всего страниц: 382 |
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Стр. 10
... ( dear mariners , for you I fold it here in every leaf ; ) Speed on my book ! spread your white sails my little bark athwart the imperious waves , Chant on , sail on , bear o'er the boundless blue from me to every sea , This song for ...
... ( dear mariners , for you I fold it here in every leaf ; ) Speed on my book ! spread your white sails my little bark athwart the imperious waves , Chant on , sail on , bear o'er the boundless blue from me to every sea , This song for ...
Стр. 15
... dear and dreadful they are to the earth , - How they inure to themselves as much as to any — what a paradox appears their age , How people respond to them , yet know them not , How there is something relentless in their fate all times ...
... dear and dreadful they are to the earth , - How they inure to themselves as much as to any — what a paradox appears their age , How people respond to them , yet know them not , How there is something relentless in their fate all times ...
Стр. 23
... Dear son do you think it is love ? Listen dear son - listen America , daughter or son , It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess , and yet it satisfies , it is great , But there is something else very great , it makes the ...
... Dear son do you think it is love ? Listen dear son - listen America , daughter or son , It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess , and yet it satisfies , it is great , But there is something else very great , it makes the ...
Стр. 73
... travel it for yourself . It is not far , it is within reach , Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know , Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land . J Shoulder your duds dear son , and I will SONG OF Myself . 73.
... travel it for yourself . It is not far , it is within reach , Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know , Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land . J Shoulder your duds dear son , and I will SONG OF Myself . 73.
Стр. 74
... dear son , Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink , But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes , I kiss you with a good - by kiss and open the gate for your egress hence . Long enough have you dream'd ...
... dear son , Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink , But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes , I kiss you with a good - by kiss and open the gate for your egress hence . Long enough have you dream'd ...
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America amid arms Assyria beautiful behold blood blow blue-fish body breast breath CALIFORNIA song calm chant clouds comrades crowd dark dead dear death debouch divine Dondra head dream earth eidolons eyes face fill'd float forever give grass hand head hear heard heart henceforth hold immortal Journeyers Kanada land leaves LEAVES of GRASS Libertad light living LONG AMERICA look look'd lovers maize Manhattan moon mother mountains never night old cause pass pass'd Passage to India peace pennant perfect persons Pioneers poems poet post-and-rail fences race rest rise river sail shape ship shore silent sing singers skald sleep soldiers songs soul sound spirit stand stars Strains musical strong sweet thee things thou thought to-day trees voice wait walk Walt Whitman waves whoever wild wind woman women woods words young
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Стр. 68 - Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.
Стр. 67 - And as to you, Corpse, I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons.
Стр. 19 - I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Стр. 246 - The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements, Sings by himself a song. Song of the bleeding throat, Death's outlet song of life, (for well, dear brother, I know, If thou wast not granted to sing, thou woulds't surely die).
Стр. 23 - Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves...
Стр. 186 - Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot, Down from the shower'd halo, ' Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings and fallings I heard, From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as if with tears, From...
Стр. 50 - Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
Стр. 250 - Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me, And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me, And I in the middle, as with companions, and as holding the hands of companions, I fled forth to the hiding receiving night, that talks not, Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness, To the solemn shadowy cedars, and ghostly pines so still.
Стр. 246 - In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the whitewash'd palings, Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green, With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love, With every leaf a miracle — and from this bush in the dooryard, With delicate-color'd blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green, A sprig with its flower I break.