Inscription
SMALL is the theme of the following Chant, yet the greatest--namely,
One's-Self--that wondrous thing a simple, separate person.
That, for the use of the New World, I sing.
Man's physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy
alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the muse;--I say the Form
complete is worthier far. The female equal with the male, I
sing,
Nor cease at the theme of One's-Self. I speak the word of the modern,
the word En-Masse:
My Days I sing, and the Lands--with interstice I knew of hapless War.
O friend whoe'er you are, at last arriving hither to commence, I feel
through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return.
And thus upon our journey link'd together let us go.
Walt Whitman
D'autres poésies de Walt Whitman
1861
ARM'D year! year of the struggle!
No dainty...
A Boston Ballad, 1854
TO get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning...
A child said, What is the grass?
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
A Child's Amaze
SILENT and amazed, even when a little boy,
I...
A Clear Midnight
THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
A Farm-Picture
THROUGH the ample open door of the peaceful country...
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a...
A Hand-Mirror
HOLD it up sternly! See this it sends back! (Who is...
A Leaf For Hand In Hand
A LEAF for hand in hand!
You natural persons...
A March In The Ranks, Hard-prest
A MARCH in the ranks hard-prest, and the road...
Précédentes poésies
Inscription
Mon âme est comme un ciel sans bornes ;
Elle a des immensités mornes
Et d'innombrables soleils clairs ;
Aussi, malgré le mal, ma vie
De tant de diamants ravie
Il y a des moments où les femmes sont fleurs
Sonnet
Il y a des moments où les femmes sont fleurs ;
On n'a pas de respect pour ces fraîches corolles...
Je suis un papillon qui fuit des choses folles,
Hiéroglyphe
J'ai trois fenêtres à ma chambre :
L'amour, la mer, la mort,
Sang vif, vert calme, violet.
Ô femme, doux et lourd trésor !
Froids vitraux, odeurs...
Gagne-petit
Il a tout fait, tous les métiers. Sa simple vie
Se passe loin du bruit, loin des cris de l'envie
Et des ambitions vaines du boulevard.
Pour ce jour attendu, qui...
Excuse
Aux arbres il faut un ciel clair,
L'espace, le soleil et l'air,
L'eau dont leur feuillage se mouille.
Il faut le calme en la forêt,
La nuit, le vent tiède et...

