Whitman short poems. Walt Whitman Love Poems: 11 Of His Best Works For You 2022-11-05
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Walt Whitman is considered one of the greatest poets in American literature and is often referred to as the father of free verse. He is known for his long, sprawling poems that celebrate the beauty and diversity of the natural world and the human experience. However, Whitman also wrote a number of shorter poems that are just as powerful and meaningful as his longer works.
One of Whitman's most famous short poems is "I Hear America Singing," which celebrates the diversity and unity of the American people. The poem describes different groups of people, such as carpenters, farmers, and mechanics, singing their own songs as they go about their work. Each group has its own unique contribution to make, and together they create a harmonious chorus that celebrates the country's strength and vitality.
Another notable short poem by Whitman is "When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer," which reflects on the tension between the abstract, theoretical knowledge of science and the direct, sensory experience of nature. In the poem, the speaker becomes frustrated with the astronomer's lecture, which is filled with technical terms and equations, and decides to leave the lecture hall to go outside and observe the stars for himself. The poem suggests that there is value in both approaches to understanding the world, and that it is important to balance intellectual curiosity with a sense of wonder and appreciation for the natural world.
Another short poem by Whitman that has gained widespread popularity is "O Me! O Life!" In this poem, the speaker reflects on the fleeting nature of life and the sense of loss that accompanies the passing of time. The poem asks deep, philosophical questions about the meaning of life and the purpose of existence, and ultimately concludes that the only way to truly find meaning is to embrace the present moment and live fully in the present.
Overall, Whitman's short poems are just as powerful and thought-provoking as his longer works. They explore a wide range of themes, from the beauty and unity of the American people to the tension between science and nature, and offer a unique perspective on the human experience. They are a testament to Whitman's ability to capture the complexity and depth of the human experience in just a few short lines of verse.
25+ Walt Whitman Poems for a Funeral or Memorial
I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, the bride was a red girl, Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders, On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his bride by the hand, She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach'd to her feet. Ashes of Soldiers " Ashes of soldiers South or North," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIII. No further does she say, but lingering all the day, Her high-borne turban'd head she wags, and rolls her darkling eye, And courtesies to the regiments, the guidons moving by. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. From Noon to Starry Night 1872 The Ox-Tamer " In a far-away northern county in the placid pastoral region," Leaves of Grass Book XXIV. Whitman struggled financially throughout his life.
Autumn Rivulets With Antecedents " With antecedents," Leaves of Grass Book XVII. Sands at Seventy You Felons on Trial in Courts " You felons on trial in courts," Leaves of Grass Book XXIV. Whispers of Heavenly Death Race of Veterans " Race of veterans—race of victors! Prodigal, you have given me love — therefore I to you give love! You laggards there on guard! Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me. Whispers of Heavenly Death What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand? Old age superbly rising! Ultimately, this is a tribute to humanity. 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. For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata piled to rest it on, Vast vegetables gave it sustenance, Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care. Inscriptions The Singer in the Prison " O sight of pity, shame and dole! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.
Walt Whitman Love Poems: 11 Of His Best Works For You
Sands at Seventy " Out of the cradle endlessly rocking," Leaves of Grass Book XIX. You are also asking me questions and I hear you, I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself. I heard what was said of the universe, Heard it and heard it of several thousand years; It is middling well as far as it goes — but is that all? Good-bye my Fancy Old Ireland " Far hence amid an isle of wondrous beauty," Leaves of Grass Book XXIV. I swear I will never again mention love or death inside a house, And I swear I will never translate myself at all, only to him or her who privately stays with me in the open air. Sands at Seventy The Wallabout Martyrs " Greater than memory of Achilles or Ulysses," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIV. Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity goes to the fourth-remov'd, I wear my hat as I please indoors or out. You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover'd with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous buckshot and the bullets, All these I feel or am.
I plead for my brothers and sisters. Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand. Autumn Rivulets Mirages " More experiences and sights, stranger, than you'd think for;" Leaves of Grass Book XXXV. List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me. Continue your annotations, continue your questionings. The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.
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-toad is a chef-d'Ĺ“uvre for the highest, And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven, And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery, And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue, And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels. Autumn Rivulets Song of the Answerer " Now list to my morning's romanza, I tell the signs of the Answerer," Leaves of Grass Book IX. I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over, My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand years, Waiting responses from oracles, honoring the gods, saluting the sun, Making a fetich of the first rock or stump, powowing with sticks in the circle of obis, Helping the llama or brahmin as he trims the lamps of the idols, Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic procession, rapt and austere in the woods a gymnosophist, Drinking mead from the skull-cup, to Shastas and Vedas admirant, minding the Koran, Walking the teokallis, spotted with gore from the stone and knife, beating the serpent-skin drum, Accepting the Gospels, accepting him that was crucified, knowing assuredly that he is divine, To the mass kneeling or the puritan's prayer rising, or sitting patiently in a pew, Ranting and frothing in my insane crisis, or waiting dead-like till my spirit arouses me, Looking forth on pavement and land, or outside of pavement and land, Belonging to the winders of the circuit of circuits. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks--with a whisper, Set ope the doors O soul. Inscriptions ; The Patriotic Poems IV Poems of Democracy To Get the Final Lilt of Songs " To get the final lilt of songs," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIV.
I do not know what is untried and afterward, But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail. Like a vagabond striking out in the world, this poem rejects tradition and charges forward toward the new. Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates, Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass'd his prelude on the reeds within. From Noon to Starry Night ; The Patriotic Poems III Poems of America By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame " By the bivouac's fitful flame," Leaves of Grass Book XXI. The orchestra whirls me 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.
Songs of Parting Song for All Seas, All Ships " To-day a rude brief recitative," Leaves of Grass Book XIX. Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes? Are the things so strange and marvelous you see or have seen? Sands at Seventy 1887, December 15 As the Time Draws Nigh " As the time draws nigh glooming a cloud," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIII. I ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty, The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the scenery is plain in all directions, The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out my fancies toward them, We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are soon to be engaged, We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass with still feet and caution, Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin'd city, The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living cities of the globe. Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. Sands at Seventy So Far and So Far, and on Toward the End " SO far, and so far, and on toward the end," Leaves of Grass So Long! Sands at Seventy We Two Boys Together Clinging " We two boys together clinging," Leaves of Grass Book V.
Good-bye my Fancy A Prairie Sunset " Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald, fawn," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIV. Inscriptions For You, O Democracy " Come, I will make the continent indissoluble," Leaves of Grass Book V. My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time. Perfume this book of mine O blood-red roses! Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? First O Songs for a Prelude " First O songs for a prelude," The Patriotic Poems I Poems of War For Him I Sing " For him I sing," Leaves of Grass Book I. You male or female! Long I was hugg'd close — long and long. I resign myself to you also — I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked inviting 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. O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days! Autumn Rivulets 1876 The Pallid Wreath " Somehow I cannot let it go yet, funeral though it is," Leaves of Grass Book XXXV.
This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Inscriptions ; The Patriotic Poems IV Poems of Democracy To Think of Time " To think of time—of all that retrospection," Leaves of Grass Book XXIX. From Noon to Starry Night Mannahatta " My city's fit and noble name resumed," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIV. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! Autumn Rivulets Thanks in Old Age " Thanks in old age—thanks ere I go," Leaves of Grass Book XXXIV. Sands at Seventy The Last Invocation " At the last, tenderly," Leaves of Grass Book XXX. A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues, do not hazard the span or make it impatient, They are but parts, any thing is but a part.
Sands at Seventy Osceola " When his hour for death had come," Leaves of Grass Book XXXV. I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take again. What is it fateful woman, so blear, hardly human? Sands at Seventy A Promise to California " A promise to California," Leaves of Grass Book V. Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me, You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you. What's-His-Name Weights and Measurements Internet Domain Extensions U. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
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