Poems by Walt Whitman

Pensive on her dead gazing I heard the Mother of All,
Desperate on the torn bodies, on the for...

For his o'erarching and last lesson the greybeard sufi,
In the fresh scent of the morning in th...

Come my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready,
Have you your pist...

Poets to come! Orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer wha...

The prairie-grass dividing, its special odor breathing,
I demand of it the spiritual correspon...

Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald, fawn,
The earth's whole amplitude a...

A batter'd, wreck'd old man,
Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home,
Pent by the ...

1 Proud music of the storm,
Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies,
Str...

Quicksand years that whirl me I know not whither,
Your schemes, politics, fail, lines give w...

Word over all, beautiful as the sky,
Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in t...

Recorders ages hence,
Come, I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior, I
will ...

Upon this scene, this show,
Yielded to-day by fashion, learning, wealth,
(Nor in caprice a...

1 For the lands and for these passionate days and for myself,
Now I awhile retire to thee O s...

Let that which stood in front go behind,
Let that which was behind advance to the front,
Let ...

That which eludes this verse and any verse,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform'd in clearest eye ...