Leaves of Grass

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Modern Library, 1921 - American poetry - 311 pages
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Contents

I
iii
II
1
III
12
IV
24
V
79
VI
97
VII
115
VIII
125
XIV
169
XV
178
XVI
182
XVII
189
XVIII
195
XIX
209
XX
213
XXI
228

IX
135
X
141
XI
146
XII
151
XIII
158

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Page 24 - SONG OF MYSELF 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
Page 45 - I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms. 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
Page x - written: 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. It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on The
Page 283 - deep secluded recesses, From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still, Came the carol of the bird. And the charm of the carol rapt me, As I held as if by their hands my comrades in the night And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.
Page 42 - night ! Night of south winds—night of the large few stars Still nodding night—mad naked summer night. Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth ! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees ! Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged
Page 281 - call, 1 hear, I come presently, I understand you, But a moment I linger, for the lustrous star has detain'd me, The star my departing comrade holds and detains me. 10 O how shall 1 warble myself for the dead one there I loved? And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul
Page 133 - is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth .something to make a greater struggle necessary. My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion, He going with me must go well arm'd,
Page 51 - 31 I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars, And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren, And the tree-load is a
Page x - A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he ... I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord.
Page 236 - ROAMING IN THOUGHT (After reading HEGEL) ROAMING in thought over the Universe, I saw the little that is Good steadily hastening towards immortality, And the vast all that is call'd Evil I saw hastening to merge itself and become lost and dead. A FARM PICTURE THROUGH the ample open door of the peaceful country

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