Walt Whitman Poems

  • 1.  
    A song of the good green grass!
    A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms--a song of the soil of fields.
  • 2.  
    I CELEBRATE myself;
  • 3.  
    Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
    Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
  • 4.  
    An old man's thought of School;
    An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.
  • 5.  
    You felons on trial in courts;
    You convicts in prison-cells, you sentenced assassins, chain'd and hand-cuff'd with iron; Who am I, too, that I am not on trial, or in prison?
  • 6.  
    When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd,
    And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourn'd--and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
  • 7.  
    With all thy gifts, America,
    (Standing secure, rapidly tending, overlooking the world,) Power, wealth, extent, vouchsafed to thee, With these, and like of these, vouchsafed to thee,
  • 8.  
    We two, how long we were fool'd!
    Now transmuted, we swiftly escape, as Nature escapes; We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return;
  • 9.  
    Gliding o'er all, through all,
    Through Nature, Time, and Space, As a ship on the waters advancing,
  • 10.  
    Adieu, O soldier!
    You of the rude campaigning, (which we shared,) The rapid march, the life of the camp,
  • 11.  
    Trickle, drops! my blue veins
    O drops of me! trickle, slow drops, Candid, from me falling, drip, bleeding drops,
  • 12.  
    The noble Sire, fallen on evil days,
    I saw, with hand uplifted, menacing, brandishing, (Memories of old in abeyance, love and faith in abeyance,)
  • 13.  
    When I heard the learn'd astronomer;
    When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
  • 14.  
    To think of time, of all that retrospection!
    To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!
  • 15.  
    In a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fix'd house,
    It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other; Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories?
  • 16.  
    Spirit that form'd this scene,
    These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,
  • 17.  
    Others may praise what they like;
    But I, from the banks of the running Missouri, praise nothing, in art, or aught else, Till it has well inhaled the atmosphere of this river - also the western prairie-scent,
  • 18.  
    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,
  • 19.  
    Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
    Whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travel'd a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
  • 20.  
    Give me your hand, old Revolutionary;
    The hill-top is nigh but a few steps, (make room, gentlemen;) Up the path you have follow'd me well, spite of your hundred and extra years;
  • 21.  
    O living always - always dying!
    O the burials of me, past and present! O me, while I stride ahead, material, visible, imperious as ever!
  • 22.  
    Suddenly out of its stale and drowsy lair, the lair of slaves,
    Like lightning it le'pt forth half startled at itself, Its feet upon the ashes and the rags, its hand tight to the throats of kings.
  • 23.  
    I met a seer,
    Passing the hues and objects of the world, The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense,
  • 24.  
    Over the western sea, hither from Niphon come,
    Courteous, the swart-cheek'd two-sworded envoys, Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,
  • 25.  
    I THOUGHT I was not alone, walking here by the shore,
    But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore, As I lean and look through the glimmering light--that one has utterly
  • 26.  
    FOR him I sing,
    I raise the Present on the Past, (As some perennial tree, out of its roots, the present on the past:)
  • 27.  
    DELICATE cluster! flag of teeming life!
    Covering all my lands! all my sea-shores lining! Flag of death! (how I watch'd you through the smoke of battle
  • 28.  
    AMONG the men and women, the multitude,
    I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs, Acknowledging none else--not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
  • 29.  
    THOU reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I,
    Therefore for thee the following chants.
  • 30.  
    O TAN-FACED prairie-boy!
    Before you came to camp, came many a welcome gift; Praises and presents came, and nourishing food--till at last, among
  • 31.  
    Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;
    When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day, One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look I shall never forget,
  • 32.  
    WHO includes diversity, and is Nature,
    Who is the amplitude of the earth, and the coarseness and sexuality of the earth, and the great charity of the earth, and the
  • 33.  
    TO The States, or any one of them, or any city of The States,
    Resist much, obey little; Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved;
  • 34.  
    NOT the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship into port, though
    beaten back, and many times baffled; Not the path-finder, penetrating inland, weary and long,
  • 35.  
    HOW solemn, as one by one,
    As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty--as the men file by where I stand;
  • 36.  
    O BOY of the West!
    To you many things to absorb, I teach, to help you become eleve of mine:
  • 37.  
    WHEN I peruse the conquer'd fame of heroes, and the victories of
    mighty generals, I do not envy the generals, Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house;
  • 38.  
    ON the beach, at night,
    Stands a child, with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky.
  • 39.  
    ELEMENTAL drifts!
    How I wish I could impress others as you have just been impressing me!
  • 40.  
    UNFOLDED out of the folds of the woman, man comes unfolded, and is
    always to come unfolded; Unfolded only out of the superbest woman of the earth, is to come the
  • 41.  
    ONLY themselves understand themselves, and the like of themselves,
    As Souls only understand Souls.
  • 42.  
    IN the new garden, in all the parts,
    In cities now, modern, I wander, Though the second or third result, or still further, primitive yet,
  • 43.  
    SOMETHING startles me where I thought I was safest;
    I withdraw from the still woods I loved; I will not go now on the pastures to walk;
  • 44.  
    AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods,
    To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas autumn,)
  • 45.  
    A NEWER garden of creation, no primal solitude,
    Dense, joyous, modern, populous millions, cities and farms, With iron interlaced, composite, tied, many in one,
  • 46.  
    WORD over all, beautiful as the sky!
    Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost;
  • 47.  
    AS consequent from store of summer rains,
    Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing, Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations,
  • 48.  
    NATIVE moments! when you come upon me--Ah you are here now! Give me now
    libidinous joys only! Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank! To-day, I go consort with nature's darlings--to-night too;
  • 49.  
    WHAT weeping face is that looking from the window?
    Why does it stream those sorrowful tears? Is it for some burial place, vast and dry?
  • 50.  
    AFTER the Sea-Ship--after the whistling winds;
    After the white-gray sails, taut to their spars and ropes, Below, a myriad, myriad waves, hastening, lifting up their necks,
Total 372 poems written by Walt Whitman

Poem of the day

Charles Hamilton Sorley Poem
All The Hills And Vales Along
 by Charles Hamilton Sorley

All the hills and vales along
Earth is bursting into song,
And the singers are the chaps
Who are going to die perhaps.
O sing, marching men,
Till the valleys ring again.
Give your gladness to earth's keeping,
So be glad, when you are sleeping.

Read complete poem

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