3 edition of Leaves of grass. found in the catalog.
Leaves of grass.
|Contributions||Swinton, John, 1829-1901, former owner., Carpenter, Edward, 1844-1929, former owner., Carolyn Wells Houghton Whitman Collection (Library of Congress), Charles E. Feinberg Collection of Walt Whitman (Library of Congress)|
|LC Classifications||PS3201 1876|
|The Physical Object|
|Pagination||384 p.,  leaves of plates :|
|Number of Pages||384|
|LC Control Number||33031321|
I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you; The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries, On the Leaves of grass. book walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms, The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold, The Missourian crosses the plains toting Leaves of grass. book wares and his cattle, As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the jingling of loose change, The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, the masons are calling for mortar, In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers; Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather'd, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, what salutes of cannon and small arms! 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. I find one side a balance and the antipedal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start. I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals, I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice, I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following, Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night, Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals, The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick, The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence, The heave'e'yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters, The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and color'd lights, The steam-whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars, The slow march play'd at the head of the association marching two and two, They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.
I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. Smile, for your lover comes. The closing sections of Leaves of Grass seek to reassess the themes and motifs of the previous sections while continuing the journey of discovery and exploration of the self. The sentries desert every other part of me, They have left me helpless to a red marauder, They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me.
The orchestra whirls Leaves of grass. book wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them, It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the indolent waves, I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath, Steep'd amid honey'd morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes of death, At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles, And that we call Being. While observing crowds of people crossing the river from Brooklyn into Manhattan, Whitman gains a vision of the unity of all things. Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us. I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. He has a clear understanding and view of death, now, yet he also seeks for his own work to become inspired with the light of his previous years. You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!
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A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. If you carouse at the table I carouse at the opposite side of the table, If you meet some stranger in the streets and love him or her, why I often meet strangers in the street and love them.
Thou reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I, Therefore for thee the following chants. Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth, I tell not the fall Leaves of grass. book Alamo, Leaves of grass. book one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred Leaves of grass.
book fifty are dumb yet at Alamo, 'Tis the tale of the murder in cold blood of four hundred and twelve young men. Far-swooping elbow'd earth—rich apple-blossom'd earth! He writes poems of a political, social, personal, and sexual nature, all ideas Leaves of grass. book he will elaborate on in later sections.
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night. Root of wash'd sweet-flag! A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.
I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the father-stuff, And of the rights of them the others are down upon, Of the deform'd, trivial, flat, foolish, despised, Fog in the air, beetles Leaves of grass.
book balls of dung. The body lurking there within thy body, The only purport of the form thou art, the real I myself, An image, an eidolon.
Still widely read today, it serves as an autobiography of sorts, recording some of the most tumultuous decades of American history. We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
Firm masculine colter it shall be you! To a Certain Cantatrice[ edit ] Here, take this gift, I was Leaves of grass. book it for some hero, speaker, or general, One who should serve the good old cause, the great idea, the progress and freedom of the race, Some brave confronter of despots, some daring rebel; But I see that what I was reserving belongs to you just as much as to any.
My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am, Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me, I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.
A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. The opening section, "Inscriptions," gives the reader an overview of the work and the purview of its author.
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good. This version sold just as poorly as the first.
Today, Leaves of Grass contains nearly poems all of which celebrate America and the American way of life. The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats, The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings, I see in them and myself the same old law.
The butcher-boy 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.
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs! The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
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. The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds. I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire it.
I resign myself to you also—I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked 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.Get this book in print.
Leaves of Grass, Volume 3 crowd dark dead dear death divine earth equal eyes face faith fall fields follow future give grass hand head hear heard heart hold hour land leaves light living look lovers mean mother Nature never night North pass past peace perfect persons poems poet present race rest rise river round 4/5(23).
Jan 25, · Buy Leaves of Grass (Penguin Clothbound Poetry) 01 by Walt Whitman (ISBN: ) from Amazon's Book Store. Everyday low prices and free delivery on eligible orders/5(). Jul 20, · Whitman was inspired to begin Leaves of Grass after reading an essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson which expressed a need for a uniquely American poet.
When the book was first published, Whitman sent a.Literary critics severely castigated the book, while poems like “A Pdf Waits for Me” pdf “To A Common Prostitute” were dubbed profane. However, Whitman kept on writing according to his personal dictates and today, Leaves of Grass is seen as echoing the voice and the sentiments of the common man who loves freedom and beauty.5/5(2).Leaves of Grass Quotes.
19 of the best book quotes from Leaves of Grass #1 “Resist much, obey little.”.Leaves of Grass () is a poetry collection by the American poet Walt Ebook. Among the ebook in the collection are "Song of Myself," "I Sing the Body Electric," "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking," and in later editions, Whitman's elegy to the assassinated President Abraham Lincoln, "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd.