As I Walk These Broad, Majestic Days. by Walt Whitman
AS I walk these broad, majestic days of peace, (For the war, the struggle of blood finish’d, wherein, O terrific Ideal! Against vast odds, having gloriously won, Now thou stridest on—yet perhaps in time toward denser wars, Perhaps to engage in time in still more dreadful contests, dangers, Longer campaigns and crises, labors beyond all […]
As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontario’s Shores. by Walt Whitman
1 AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario’s shore, As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return’d, and the dead that return no more, A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me; Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America—chant me the carol of victory; And […]
As I Ponder’d in Silence. by Walt Whitman
1 AS I ponder’d in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before me, with distrustful aspect, Terrible in beauty, age, and power, The genius of poets of old lands, As to me directing like flame its eyes, With finger pointing to many immortal songs, And menacing voice, What singest thou? […]
As I lay with Head in your Lap, Camerado. by Walt Whitman
AS I lay with my head in your lap, Camerado, The confession I made I resume—what I said to you in the open air I resume: I know I am restless, and make others so; I know my words are weapons, full of danger, full of death; (Indeed I am myself the real soldier; It […]
As Consequent, Etc. by Walt Whitman
AS consequent from store of summer rains, Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing, Or many a herb-lined brook’s reticulations, Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea, Songs of continued years I sing. Life’s ever-modern rapids first, (soon, soon to blend, With the old streams of death.) Some threading Ohio’s farm-fields or the woods, Some down […]
As At Thy Portals Also Death. by Walt Whitman
AS at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my mother, to the divine blending, maternity, To her, buried and gone, yet buried not, gone not from me, (I see again the calm benignant face fresh and beautiful still, I sit by the form in the coffin, I kiss […]
As Adam, Early in the Morning. by Walt Whitman
AS Adam, early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refresh’d with sleep; Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass; Be not afraid of my Body. 5 ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems […]
As a Strong Bird on Pinions Free. by Walt Whitman
1 AS a strong bird on pinions free, Joyous, the amplest spaces heavenward cleaving, Such be the thought I’d think to-day of thee, America, Such be the recitative I’d bring to-day for thee. The conceits of the poets of other lands I bring thee not, Nor the compliments that have served their turn so long, […]
Artilleryman’s Vision, The. by Walt Whitman
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my infant, There in the room, as I wake from sleep, this vision […]
Apostroph. by Walt Whitman
O MATER! O fils! O brood continental! O flowers of the prairies! O space boundless! O hum of mighty products! O you teeming cities! O so invincible, turbulent, proud! O race of the future! O women! O fathers! O you men of passion and the storm! O native power only! O beauty! O yourself! O […]
Ages and Ages, Returning at Intervals. by Walt Whitman
AGES and ages, returning at intervals, Undestroy’d, wandering immortal, Lusty, phallic, with the potent original loins, perfectly sweet, I, chanter of Adamic songs, Through the new garden, the West, the great cities calling, Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins. ————— […]
Adieu to a Soldier by Walt Whitman
ADIEU, O soldier! You of the rude campaigning, (which we shared,) The rapid march, the life of the camp, The hot contention of opposing fronts—the long manoeuver, Red battles with their slaughter,—the stimulus—the strong, terrific game, Spell of all brave and manly hearts—the trains of Time through you, and like of you, all fill’d, With […]
Aboard at a Ship’s Helm. by Walt Whitman
, at a ship’s helm, A young steersman, steering with care. A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing, An ocean-bell—O a warning bell, rock’d by the waves. O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing, Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place. For, as on the alert, […]
A Woman Waits for Me. by Walt Whitman
A WOMAN waits for me—she contains all, nothing is lacking, Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were lacking. Sex contains all, Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations, Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk; All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, All the […]
A Sight in Camp. by Walt Whitman
A SIGHT in camp in the day-break grey and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early, sleepless, As slow I walk in the cool fresh air, the path near by the hospital tent, Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there, untended lying, Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woollen […]
A Paumanok Picture. by Walt Whitman
TWO boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still, Ten fishermen waiting—they discover a thick school of mossbonkers—they drop the join’d seine-ends in the water, The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the beach, enclosing the mossbonkers, The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop […]
A March in the Ranks, Hard-prest. by Walt Whitman
A MARCH in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown; A route through a heavy wood, with muffled steps in the darkness; Our army foil’d with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating; Till after midnight glimmer upon us, the lights of a dim-lighted building; We come to an open space in the woods, and […]
A Leaf for Hand in Hand. by Walt Whitman
A LEAF for hand in hand! You natural persons old and young! You on the Mississippi, and on all the branches and bayous of the Mississippi! You friendly boatmen and mechanics! You roughs! You twain! And all processions moving along the streets! I wish to infuse myself among you till I see it common for […]
A Hand-Mirror. by Walt Whitman
HOLD it up sternly! See this it sends back! (Who is it? Is it you?) Outside fair costume—within ashes and filth, No more a flashing eye—no more a sonorous voice or springy step; Now some slave’s eye, voice, hands, step, A drunkard’s breath, unwholesome eater’s face, venerealee’s flesh, Lungs rotting away piecemeal, stomach sour and […]
A Farm-Picture. by Walt Whitman
THROUGH the ample open door of the peaceful country barn, A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding; And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away. ————— 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 […]
A child said, What is the grass by Walt Whitman
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the […]
The Tavern by Willa Cather
In the tavern of my heart Many a one has sat before, Drunk red wine and sung a stave, And, departing, come no more. When the night was cold without, And the ravens croaked of storm, They have sat them at my hearth, Telling me my house was warm. As the lute and cup went […]
The house where I was born (10) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (10) by Yves Bonnefoy And then life; and once again A house where I was born. Around us The granary above what once had been a church, The gentle play of shadow from the dawn clouds, And in us that smell of the dry straw That had seemed to […]
The house where I was born (09) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (09) by Yves Bonnefoy And then the day came When I heard the extraordinary lines in Keats, The evocation of Ruth “when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn.” I did not need to search for the meaning Of these words, For it was in […]
The house where I was born (08) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (08) by Yves Bonnefoy I open my eyes, yes, it’s the house where I was born, Exactly as it was and nothing more. The same small dining room whose window Gives onto a peach tree that never grows. A man and a woman are seated At this window, facing […]
The house where I was born (07) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (07) by Yves Bonnefoy I remember, it was a morning, in summer, The window was half-open, I drew near, I could see my father at the end of the garden. He was motionless, looking for something, I could not tell what, or where, beyond the world, His body was […]
The house where I was born (06) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (06) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, but I was travelling, The train had rolled throughout the night, It was now going toward huge clouds That were standing, packed together, down there, Dawn rent from time to time by forks of lightning. I watched the advent of the world […]
The house where I was born (05) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (05) by Yves Bonnefoy In the same dream I am lying in the hollow of a boat, My forehead and eyes against the curved planks Where I can hear the undercurrents Striking the bottom of the boat. All at once, the prow rises up, And I think that we’ve […]
The house where I was born (04) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (04) by Yves Bonnefoy Another time. It was still night. Water slid Silently on the black ground, And I knew that my only task would be To remember, and I laughed, I bent down, I took from the mud A pile of branches and leaves, I lifted up the […]
The house where I was born (03) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (03) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, it was the house where I was born, It was night, trees were crowding On all sides around our door, I was alone on the doorstep in the cold wind, No, not alone, for two huge beings Were speaking to each other […]
The house where I was born (02) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (02) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, it was the house where I was born. It was raining softly in all the rooms, I went from one to another, looking at The water that shone on the mirrors Piled up everywhere, some broken or even Pushed between the furniture […]
The house where I was born (01) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (01) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, it was the house where I was born, Sea foam splashed against the rock, Not a single bird, only the wind to open and close the wave, Everywhere on the horizon the smell of ashes, As if the hills were hiding a […]
The Hawthorn Tree by Willa Cather
Across the shimmering meadows– Ah, when he came to me! In the spring-time, In the night-time, In the starlight, Beneath the hawthorn tree. Up from the misty marsh-land– Ah, when he climbed to me! To my white bower, To my sweet rest, To my warm breast, Beneath the hawthorn tree. Ask of me what the […]
Street In Packingtown by Willa Sibert Cather
IN the gray dust before a frail gray shed, By a board fence obscenely chalked in red, A gray creek willow, left from country days, Flickers pallid in the haze. Beside the gutter of the unpaved street, Tin cans and broken glass about his feet, And a brown whisky bottle, singled out For play from […]
Spanish Johnny by Willa Sibert Cather
The old West, the old time, The old wind singing through The red, red grass a thousand miles – And Spanish Johnny, you! He’d sit beside the water ditch When all his herd was in, And never mind a child, but sing To his mandolin. The big stars, the blue night, The moon-enchanted lane; The […]
Poppies on Ludlow Castle by Willa Cather
Through halls of vanished pleasure, And hold of vanished power, And crypt of faith forgotten, A came to Ludlow tower. A-top of arch and stairway, Of crypt and donjan cell, Of council hall, and chamber, Of wall, and ditch, and well, High over grated turrets Where clinging ivies run, A thousand scarlet poppies Enticed the […]
Paradox by Willa Cather
I knew them both upon Miranda’s isle, Which is of youth a sea-bound seigniory: Misshapen Caliban, so seeming vile, And Ariel, proud prince of minstrelsy, Who did forsake the sunset for my tower And like a star above my slumber burned. The night was held in silver chains by power Of melody, in which all […]
London Roses by Willa Cather
“Rowse, Rowses! Penny a bunch!” they tell you– Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you. Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun, Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you– Roses of London town, red till the summer is done. Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming West End, East End, wondrously budding […]
Passer-By, These Are Words by Yves Bonnefoy
Passer-By, These Are Words by Yves Bonnefoy Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of letters eaten by grass. Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names. It flits between two sprays of leaves, Carrying […]
Arcadian Winter by Willa Cather
Woe is me to tell it thee, Winter winds in Arcady! Scattered is thy flock and fled From the glades where once it fed, And the snow lies drifted white In the bower of our delight, Where the beech threw gracious shade On the cheek of boy and maid: And the bitter blasts make roar […]