Song of Myself ...Done into print by the Roycrofters, 1904 - Всего страниц: 70 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 13
Стр. 12
... puts off his killing - clothes , or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market , I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break - down . Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil , Each has his main ...
... puts off his killing - clothes , or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market , I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break - down . Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil , Each has his main ...
Стр. 26
... old cartouches , These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas , This is the geologist , this works with the scalpel , and this is a math- ematician . Gentlemen , to you the first honors always ! Your [ 26 ] SONG OF MYSELF.
... old cartouches , These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas , This is the geologist , this works with the scalpel , and this is a math- ematician . Gentlemen , to you the first honors always ! Your [ 26 ] SONG OF MYSELF.
Стр. 30
... puts upward libidinous prongs , Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven . The earth by the sky staid with , the daily close of their junction , The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head , The mocking taunt , See then ...
... puts upward libidinous prongs , Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven . The earth by the sky staid with , the daily close of their junction , The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head , The mocking taunt , See then ...
Стр. 35
... puts to scorn all machinery , And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue , And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels . I find I incorporate gneiss , coal , long - threaded moss , fruits ...
... puts to scorn all machinery , And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue , And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels . I find I incorporate gneiss , coal , long - threaded moss , fruits ...
Стр.
... old cartouches , These mariners put the ship through seas , This is the geologist , this works with the sc eeds . eart tag of me I touch or se the spread of ematician . gs of my ! of guarded ou ! be you. [ 26 ] SONG OF MYSELF.
... old cartouches , These mariners put the ship through seas , This is the geologist , this works with the sc eeds . eart tag of me I touch or se the spread of ematician . gs of my ! of guarded ou ! be you. [ 26 ] SONG OF MYSELF.
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
18 With music Altamahaw arms ascend aware I sit beard beat behold blood body breast breath callous shell cannon cartouches child Comrade cornets crowd dark dark suns Dazzling and tremendous dead death decillions doors drest EAST AURORA embouchures Encompass worlds Evil propels eyes face fall of Alamo feel flesh gneiss grass guess hair hand head headland hear heard heaven hounded slave human voice husband sleeps joints on earth laugh lean light limbs lips listening look lovers mother mouth neck never night pass Pleas'd POEMS poet positive science quadroon quadrupeds quintillions red marauder rest riddle rock round ROYCROFTERS sails scrofula Seasons pursuing sextillions ship side a balance silent sit content song soul sounds stand stars stonecrop Stuff'd sweat talk tell things tongue touch touch'd voice wait walks WALT WHITMAN Wolverine woman women woods wounded person Yankee girl young
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 31 - Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest. Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs ! Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
Стр. 46 - I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud, And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth.
Стр. 29 - You sea ! I resign myself to you also — I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me, We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
Стр. 49 - The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Стр. 13 - Tenderly will I use you, curling grass ; It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, and from women, and from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers
Стр. 32 - Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
Стр. 17 - Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome. She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.
Стр. 7 - 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,fhy ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Стр. 15 - The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.
Стр. 5 - THE LAST INVOCATION AT the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks — with a whisper, Set ope the doors O soul.