Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman (red queen free ebook txt) đ
- Author: Walt Whitman
- Performer: 0553211161
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Away with your life of peace!âyour joys of peace!
Give me my old wild battle-life again!â
} Stronger Lessons
Have you learnâd lessons only of those who admired you, and were
tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learnâd great lessons from those who reject you, and
brace themselves against you? or who treat you with contempt,
or dispute the passage with you?
} A Prairie Sunset
Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald, fawn,
The earthâs whole amplitude and Natureâs multiform power consignâd
for once to colors;
The light, the general air possessâd by themâcolors till now unknown,
No limit, confineânot the Western sky aloneâthe high meridianâ
North, South, all,
Pure luminous color fighting the silent shadows to the last.
} Twenty Years
Down on the ancient wharf, the sand, I sit, with a new-comer chatting:
He shippâd as green-hand boy, and sailâd away, (took some sudden,
vehement notion;)
Since, twenty years and more have circled round and round,
While he the globe was circling round and round, âand now returns:
How changed the placeâall the old landmarks goneâthe parents dead;
(Yes, he comes back to lay in port for goodâto settleâhas a
well-fillâd purseâno spot will do but this;)
The little boat that scullâd him from the sloop, now held in leash I see,
I hear the slapping waves, the restless keel, the rocking in the sand,
I see the sailor kit, the canvas bag, the great box bound with brass,
I scan the face all berry-brown and beardedâthe stout-strong frame,
Dressâd in its russet suit of good Scotch cloth:
(Then what the told-out story of those twenty years? What of the future?)
} Orange Buds by Mail from Florida
A lesser proof than old Voltaireâs, yet greater,
Proof of this present time, and thee, thy broad expanse, America,
To my plain Northern hut, in outside clouds and snow,
Brought safely for a thousand miles oâer land and tide,
Some three days since on their own soil live-sprouting,
Now here their sweetness through my room unfolding,
A bunch of orange buds by mall from Florida.
} Twilight
The soft voluptuous opiate shades,
The sun just gone, the eager light dispellâdâ(I too will soon be
gone, dispellâd,)
A hazeânirwanaârest and nightâoblivion.
} You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me
You lingering sparse leaves of me on winter-nearing boughs,
And I some well-shorn tree of field or orchard-row;
You tokens diminute and lornâ(not now the flush of May, or July
clover-bloomâno grain of August now;)
You pallid banner-stavesâyou pennants valuelessâyou overstayâd of time,
Yet my soul-dearest leaves confirming all the rest,
The faithfulestâhardiestâlast.
} Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone
Not meagre, latent boughs alone, O songs! (scaly and bare, like
eaglesâ talons,)
But haply for some sunny day (who knows?) some future spring, some
summerâbursting forth,
To verdant leaves, or sheltering shadeâto nourishing fruit,
Apples and grapesâthe stalwart limbs of trees emergingâthe fresh,
free, open air,
And love and faith, like scented roses blooming.
} The Dead Emperor
To-day, with bending head and eyes, thou, too, Columbia,
Less for the mighty crown laid low in sorrowâless for the Emperor,
Thy true condolence breathest, sendest out oâer many a salt sea mile,
Mourning a good old manâa faithful shepherd, patriot.
} As the Greekâs Signal Flame
As the Greekâs signal flame, by antique records told,
Rose from the hilltop, like applause and glory,
Welcoming in fame some special veteran, hero,
With rosy tinge reddening the land heâd served,
So I aloft from Mannahattaâs ship-fringed shore,
Lift high a kindled brand for thee, Old Poet.
} The Dismantled Ship
In some unused lagoon, some nameless bay,
On sluggish, lonesome waters, anchorâd near the shore,
An old, dismasted, gray and batterâd ship, disabled, done,
After free voyages to all the seas of earth, haulâd up at last and
hawserâd tight,
Lies rusting, mouldering.
} Now Precedent Songs, Farewell
Now precedent songs, farewellâby every name farewell,
(Trains of a staggering line in many a strange procession, waggons,
From ups and downsâwith intervalsâfrom elder years, mid-age, or youth,)
âIn Cabinâd Ships, or Thee Old Cause or Poets to Come
Or Paumanok, Song of Myself, Calamus, or Adam,
Or Beat! Beat! Drums! or To the Leavenâd Soil they Trod,
Or Captain! My Captain! Kosmos, Quicksand Years, or Thoughts,
Thou Mother with thy Equal Brood,â and many, many more unspecified,
From fibre heart of mineâfrom throat and tongueâ(My lifeâs hot
pulsing blood,
The personal urge and form for meânot merely paper, automatic type
and ink,)
Each song of mineâeach utterance in the pastâhaving its long, long
history,
Of life or death, or soldierâs wound, of countryâs loss or safety,
(O heaven! what flash and started endless train of all! compared
indeed to that!
What wretched shred eâen at the best of all!)
} An Evening Lull
After a week of physical anguish,
Unrest and pain, and feverish heat,
Toward the ending day a calm and lull comes on,
Three hours of peace and soothing rest of brain.
} Old Ageâs Lambent Peaks
The touch of flameâthe illuminating fireâthe loftiest look at last,
Oâer city, passion, seaâoâer prairie, mountain, woodâthe earth itself,
The airy, different, changing hues of all, in failing twilight,
Objects and groups, bearings, faces, reminiscences;
The calmer sightâthe golden setting, clear and broad:
So much iâ the atmosphere, the points of view, the situations whence
we scan,
Broât out by them aloneâso much (perhaps the best) unreckâd before;
The lights indeed from themâold ageâs lambent peaks.
} After the Supper and Talk
After the supper and talkâafter the day is done,
As a friend from friends his final withdrawal prolonging,
Good-bye and Good-bye with emotional lips repeating,
(So hard for his hand to release those handsâno more will they meet,
No more for communion of sorrow and joy, of old and young,
A far-stretching journey awaits him, to return no more,)
Shunning, postponing severanceâseeking to ward off the last word
ever so little,
Eâen at the exit-door turningâcharges superfluous calling backâ
eâen as he descends the steps,
Something to eke out a minute additionalâshadows of nightfall deepening,
Farewells, messages lesseningâdimmer the forthgoerâs visage and form,
Soon to be lost for aye in the darknessâloth, O so loth to depart!
Garrulous to the very last.
[BOOKXXXV. GOOD-BYE MY FANCY]
} Sail out for Good, Eidolon Yacht!
Heave the anchor short!
Raise main-sail and jibâsteer forth,
O little white-hullâd sloop, now speed on really deep waters,
(I will not call it our concluding voyage,
But outset and sure entrance to the truest, best, maturest;)
Depart, depart from solid earthâno more returning to these shores,
Now on for aye our infinite free venture wending,
Spurning all yet tried ports, seas, hawsers, densities, gravitation,
Sail out for good, eidolon yacht of me!
} Lingering Last Drops
And whence and why come you?
We know not whence, (was the answer,)
We only know that we drift here with the rest,
That we lingerâd and laggâdâbut were wafted at last, and are now here,
To make the passing showerâs concluding drops.
} Good-Bye My Fancy
Good-bye my fancyâ(I had a word to say,
But âtis not quite the timeâThe best of any manâs word or say,
Is when its proper place arrivesâand for its meaning,
I keep mine till the last.)
} On, on the Same, Ye Jocund Twain!
On, on the same, ye jocund twain!
My life and recitative, containing birth, youth, mid-age years,
Fitful as motley-tongues of flame, inseparably twined and merged in
oneâcombining all,
My single soulâaims, confirmations, failures, joysâNor single soul alone,
I chant my nationâs crucial stage, (Americaâs, haply humanityâs)â
the trial great, the victory great,
A strange eclaircissement of all the masses past, the eastern world,
the ancient, medieval,
Here, here from wanderings, strayings, lessons, wars, defeatsâhere
at the west a voice triumphantâjustifying all,
A gladsome pealing cryâa song for once of utmost pride and satisfaction;
I chant from it the common bulk, the general average horde, (the
best sooner than the worst)âAnd now I chant old age,
(My verses, written first for forenoon life, and for the summerâs,
autumnâs spread,
I pass to snow-white hairs the same, and give to pulses
winter-coolâd the same;)
As here in careless trill, I and my recitatives, with faith and love,
wafting to other work, to unknown songs, conditions,
On, on ye jocund twain! continue on the same!
} MY 71st Year
After surmounting three-score and ten,
With all their chances, changes, losses, sorrows,
My parentsâ deaths, the vagaries of my life, the many tearing
passions of me, the war of â63 and â4,
As some old broken soldier, after a long, hot, wearying march, or
haply after battle,
To-day at twilight, hobbling, answering company roll-call, Here,
with vital voice,
Reporting yet, saluting yet the Officer over all.
} Apparitions
A vague mist hanging âround half the pages:
(Sometimes how strange and clear to the soul,
That all these solid things are indeed but apparitions, concepts,
non-realities.)
} The Pallid Wreath
Somehow I cannot let it go yet, funeral though it is,
Let it remain back there on its nail suspended,
With pink, blue, yellow, all blanchâd, and the white now gray and ashy,
One witherâd rose put years ago for thee, dear friend;
But I do not forget thee. Hast thou then faded?
Is the odor exhaled? Are the colors, vitalities, dead?
No, while memories subtly playâthe past vivid as ever;
For but last night I woke, and in that spectral ring saw thee,
Thy smile, eyes, face, calm, silent, loving as ever:
So let the wreath hang still awhile within my eye-reach,
It is not yet dead to me, nor even pallid.
} An Ended Day
The soothing sanity and blitheness of completion,
The pomp and hurried contest-glare and rush are done;
Now triumph! transformation! jubilate!
} Old Ageâs Ship & Crafty Deathâs
From east and west across the horizonâs edge,
Two mighty masterful vessels sailers steal upon us:
But weâll make race a-time upon the seasâa battle-contest yet! bear
lively there!
(Our joys of strife and derring-do to the last!)
Put on the old ship all her power to-day!
Crowd topsail, top-gallant and royal studding-sails,
Out challenge and defianceâflags and flaunting pennants added,
As we take to the openâtake to the deepest, freest waters.
} To the Pending Year
Have I no weapon-word for theeâsome message brief and fierce?
(Have I fought out and done indeed the battle?) Is there no shot left,
For all thy affectations, lisps, scorns, manifold silliness?
Nor for myselfâmy own rebellious self in thee?
Down, down, proud gorge!âthough choking thee;
Thy bearded throat and high-borne forehead to the gutter;
Crouch low thy neck to eleemosynary gifts.
} Shakspere-Baconâs Cipher
I doubt it notâthen more, far more;
In each old song bequeathâdâin every noble page or text,
(Differentâsomething unreckâd beforeâsome unsuspected author,)
In every object, mountain, tree, and starâin every birth and life,
As part of eachâevolvâd from eachâmeaning, behind the ostent,
A mystic cipher waits infolded.
} Long, Long Hence
After a long, long course, hundreds of years, denials,
Accumulations, rousâd love and joy and thought,
Hopes, wishes, aspirations, ponderings, victories, myriads of readers,
Coating, compassing, coveringâafter agesâ and agesâ encrustations,
Then only may these songs reach fruition.
} Bravo, Paris Exposition!
Add to your show, before you close it, France,
With all the rest, visible, concrete, temples, towers, goods,
machines and ores,
Our sentiment wafted from many million heart-throbs, ethereal but solid,
(We grandsons and great-grandsons do not forget your grandsires,)
From fifty Nations and nebulous Nations, compacted, sent oversea to-day,
Americaâs applause, love, memories and good-will.
} Interpolation Sounds
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