Leaves of Grass: The Sesquicentennial Essays

Cover
Susan Belasco, Ed Folsom, Kenneth M. Price
U of Nebraska Press, 2007 - 504 Seiten
Contains seventeen essays by pre-eminent scholars representing a variety of critical perspectives that focus on Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass". This book features contributors who treat Whitman's poetry, his biography, his politics, his reception in the United States and abroad, race and ethnic issues, and nineteenth-century America.

Im Buch

Inhalt

V
1
VI
33
VII
35
VIII
62
IX
85
X
87
XI
124
XII
141
XX
282
XXI
299
XXII
321
XXIII
343
XXIV
361
XXV
363
XXVI
378
XXVII
402

XIII
177
XIV
179
XV
199
XVI
224
XVII
244
XVIII
267
XIX
269
XXVIII
415
XXIX
417
XXX
427
XXXI
429
XXXII
457
XXXIII
463
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Seite 162 - I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
Seite 422 - Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you! You my rich blood! your milky stream pale strippings of my life! Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!
Seite 202 - THERE was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Seite 421 - Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valvèd voice.
Seite 293 - With half-dropt eyelid still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill — THE LOTOS-EATERS To hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine — To watch the emerald-colour'd water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
Seite 158 - I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things to be. My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps, All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount.
Seite 420 - THE LAST INVOCATION AT the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks — with a whisper, Set ope the doors O soul.
Seite 2 - One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology 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 equally with the Male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine, The...
Seite 141 - The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Seite 182 - Our day of dependence, our long apprenticeship to the learning of other lands, draws to a close. The millions that around us are rushing into life cannot always be fed on the sere remains of foreign harvests.

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