Think of the Soul. by Walt Whitman
THINK of the Soul; I swear to you that body of yours gives proportions to your Soul somehow to live in other spheres; I do not know how, but I know it is so. Think of loving and being loved; I swear to you, whoever you are, you can interfuse yourself with such things that […]
Thick-Sprinkled Bunting. by Walt Whitman
THICK-SPRINKLED bunting! Flag of stars! Long yet your road, fateful flag!—long yet your road, and lined with bloody death! For the prize I see at issue, at last is the world! All its ships and shores I see, interwoven with your threads, greedy banner! —Dream’d again the flags of kings, highest born, to flaunt unrival’d? […]
These, I, Singing in Spring. by Walt Whitman
THESE, I, singing in spring, collect for lovers, (For who but I should understand lovers, and all their sorrow and joy? And who but I should be the poet of comrades?) Collecting, I traverse the garden, the world—but soon I pass the gates, Now along the pond-side—now wading in a little, fearing not the wet, […]
There was a Child went Forth. by Walt Whitman
THERE was a child went forth every day; And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became; And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.<THERE was a child went forth every day; And the first […]
The Wound-Dresser by Walt Whitman
1 AN old man bending I come among new faces, Years looking backward resuming in answer to children, Come tell us old man, as from young men and maidens that love me, (Arous’d and angry, I’d thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war, But soon my fingers fail’d me, my face droop’d and […]
That Shadow, my Likeness. by Walt Whitman
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering; How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits; How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; —But in these, and among my lovers, and caroling my songs, O I never doubt whether that […]
That Music Always Round Me. by Walt Whitman
THAT music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning—yet long untaught I did not hear; But now the chorus I hear, and am elated; A tenor, strong, ascending, with power and health, with glad notes of day-break I hear, A soprano, at intervals, sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves, A transparent bass, shuddering lusciously under […]
Tests. by Walt Whitman
ALL submit to them, where they sit, inner, secure, unapproachable to analysis, in the Soul; Not traditions—not the outer authorities are the judges—they are the judges of outer authorities, and of all traditions; They corroborate as they go, only whatever corroborates themselves, and touches themselves; For all that, they have it forever in themselves to […]
Tears. by Walt Whitman
TEARS! tears! tears! In the night, in solitude, tears; On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck’d in by the sand; Tears—not a star shining—all dark and desolate; Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head: —O who is that ghost?—that form in the dark, with tears? What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch’d there […]
Still, though the One I Sing. by Walt Whitman
STILL, though the one I sing, (One, yet of contradictions made,) I dedicate to Nationality, I leave in him Revolt, (O latent right of insurrection! O quenchless, indispensable fire!) ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world […]
States! by Walt Whitman
STATES! Were you looking to be held together by the lawyers? By an agreement on a paper? Or by arms? Away! I arrive, bringing these, beyond all the forces of courts and arms, These! to hold you together as firmly as the earth itself is held together. The old breath of life, ever new, Here! […]
Starting from Paumanok. by Walt Whitman
1 STARTING from fish-shape Paumanok, where I was born, Well-begotten, and rais’d by a perfect mother; After roaming many lands—lover of populous pavements; Dweller in Mannahatta, my city—or on southern savannas; Or a soldier camp’d, or carrying my knapsack and gun—or a miner in California; Or rude in my home in Dakota’s woods, my diet […]
Spontaneous Me. by Walt Whitman
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder, The hill-side whiten’d with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late in autumn—the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and light and dark green, The rich coverlid of the […]
Spirit whose Work is Done. by Walt Whitman
SPIRIT whose work is done! spirit of dreadful hours! Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering pressing;) Spirit of many a solemn day, and many a savage scene! Electric spirit! That with muttering voice, through the war now closed, like a tireless […]
Spirit That Form’d This Scene. by Walt Whitman
SPIRIT that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks, These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness, These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own, I know thee, savage spirit—we have communed together, Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was’t charged against my chants they […]
Sparkles from The Wheel. by Walt Whitman
1 WHERE the city’s ceaseless crowd moves on, the live-long day, Withdrawn, I join a group of children watching—I pause aside with them. By the curb, toward the edge of the flagging, A knife-grinder works at his wheel, sharpening a great knife; Bending over, he carefully holds it to the stone—by foot and knee, With […]
Spain 1873–’74. by Walt Whitman
OUT of the murk of heaviest clouds, Out of the feudal wrecks, and heap’d-up skeletons of kings, Out of that old entire European debris—the shatter’d mummeries, Ruin’d cathedrals, crumble of palaces, tombs of priests, Lo! Freedom’s features, fresh, undimm’d, look forth—the same immortal face looks forth; (A glimpse as of thy mother’s face, Columbia, A […]
Souvenirs of Democracy. by Walt Whitman
THE business man, the acquirer vast, After assiduous years, surveying results, preparing for departure, Devises houses and lands to his children—bequeaths stocks, goods—funds for a school or hospital, Leaves money to certain companions to buy tokens, souvenirs of gems and gold; Parceling out with care—And then, to prevent all cavil, His name to his testament […]
Song of the Universal. by Walt Whitman
1 COME, said the Muse, Sing me a song no poet yet has chanted, Sing me the Universal. In this broad Earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed Perfection. By every life a share, or more or less, None born but it […]
Song of the Redwood-Tree. by Walt Whitman
1 A CALIFORNIA song! A prophecy and indirection—a thought impalpable, to breathe, as air; A chorus of dryads, fading, departing—or hamadryads departing; A murmuring, fateful, giant voice, out of the earth and sky, Voice of a mighty dying tree in the Redwood forest dense. Farewell, my brethren, Farewell, O earth and sky—farewell, ye neighboring waters; […]
Song of the Open Road. by Walt Whitman
1 AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune; Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Strong and content, I travel the open road. The earth—that […]
Song of the Exposition. by Walt Whitman
1 AFTER all, not to create only, or found only, But to bring, perhaps from afar, what is already founded, To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free; To fill the gross, the torpid bulk with vital religious fire; Not to repel or destroy, so much as accept, fuse, rehabilitate; To obey, as well […]
Song of the Broad-Axe. by Walt Whitman
1 WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan! Head from the mother’s bowels drawn! Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and lip only one! Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced from a little seed sown! Resting the grass amid and upon, To be lean’d, and to lean on. Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes—masculine […]
Song for All Seas, All Ships. by Walt Whitman
1 TO-DAY a rude brief recitative, Of ships sailing the Seas, each with its special flag or ship-signal; Of unnamed heroes in the ships—Of waves spreading and spreading, far as the eye can reach; Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing; And out of these a chant, for the sailors of all nations, […]
Song at Sunset. by Walt Whitman
SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me! Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past! Inflating my throat—you, divine average! You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing. Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully praising things; Corroborating forever the triumph of things. […]
Sometimes with One I Love. by Walt Whitman
SOMETIMES with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn’d love; But now I think there is no unreturn’d love—the pay is certain, one way or another; (I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was not return’d; Yet out of that, I have written these songs.) ————— The […]
Solid, Ironical, Rolling Orb. by Walt Whitman
SOLID, ironical, rolling orb! Master of all, and matter of fact!—at last I accept your terms; Bringing to practical, vulgar tests, of all my ideal dreams, And of me, as lover and hero. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the […]
Sobbing of The Bells, The. by Walt Whitman
THE sobbing of the bells, the sudden death-news everywhere, The slumberers rouse, the rapport of the People, (Full well they know that message in the darkness, Full well return, respond within their breasts, their brains, the sad reverberations,) The passionate toll and clang—city to city, joining, sounding, passing, Those heart-beats of a Nation in the […]
So Long. by Walt Whitman
1 TO conclude—I announce what comes after me; I announce mightier offspring, orators, days, and then, for the present, depart. I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to consummations. When America does what was promis’d, When there are plentiful athletic bards, inland […]
So Far and So Far, and on Toward the End. by Walt Whitman
SO far, and so far, and on toward the end, Singing what is sung in this book, from the irresistible impulses of me; But whether I continue beyond this book, to maturity, Whether I shall dart forth the true rays, the ones that wait unfired, (Did you think the sun was shining its brightest? No—it […]
The Sleepers by Walt Whitman
1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping, Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers, Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory, Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping. How solemn they look there, stretch’d and still! How quiet they breathe, the little […]
Singer in the Prison, The. by Walt Whitman
1 O sight of shame, and pain, and dole! O fearful thought—a convict Soul! RANG the refrain along the hall, the prison, Rose to the roof, the vaults of heaven above, Pouring in floods of melody, in tones so pensive, sweet and strong, the like whereof was never heard, Reaching the far-off sentry, and the […]
Sing of the Banner at Day-Break. by Walt Whitman
POET. O A NEW song, a free song, Flapping, flapping, flapping, flapping, by sounds, by voices clearer, By the wind’s voice and that of the drum, By the banner’s voice, and child’s voice, and sea’s voice, and father’s voice, Low on the ground and high in the air, On the ground where father and child […]
Shut Not Your Doors, &c. by Walt Whitman
SHUT not your doors to me, proud libraries, For that which was lacking on all your well-fill’d shelves, yet needed most, I bring; Forth from the army, the war emerging—a book I have made, The words of my book nothing—the drift of it everything; A book separate, not link’d with the rest, nor felt by […]
Ship Starting, The. by Walt Whitman
LO! the unbounded sea! On its breast a Ship starting, spreading all her sails—an ample Ship, carrying even her moonsails; The pennant is flying aloft, as she speeds, she speeds so stately—below, emulous waves press forward, They surround the Ship, with shining curving motions, and foam. ————— The End And that’s the End of the […]
Scented Herbage of My Breast. by Walt Whitman
SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves, body-leaves, growing up above me, above death, Perennial roots, tall leaves—O the winter shall not freeze you, delicate leaves, Every year shall you bloom again—out from where you retired, you shall emerge again; O I do not […]
Says. by Walt Whitman
1 I SAY whatever tastes sweet to the most perfect person, that is finally right. 2 I say nourish a great intellect, a great brain; If I have said anything to the contrary, I hereby retract it. 3 I say man shall not hold property in man; I say the least developed person on earth […]
Savantism. by Walt Whitman
THITHER, as I look, I see each result and glory retracing itself and nestling close, always obligated; Thither hours, months, years—thither trades, compacts, establishments, even the most minute; Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, persons, estates; Thither we also, I with my leaves and songs, trustful, admirant, As a father, to his father going, takes […]
Salut au Monde. by Walt Whitman
1 O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds! Such join’d unended links, each hook’d to the next! Each answering all—each sharing the earth with all. What widens within you, Walt Whitman? What waves and soils exuding? What climes? what persons and lands are here? Who are the infants? some […]
Runner, The. by Walt Whitman
ON a flat road runs the well-train’d runner; He is lean and sinewy, with muscular legs; He is thinly clothed—he leans forward as he runs, With lightly closed fists, and arms partially rais’d. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the […]