Slient and amazed, even when a little boy,I remember I heard the preacher every Sunday put God in hisstatements,As contending against some being or influence.
Author: Samantha Evans
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…
A Carol Of Harvest, For 1867 By Walt Whitman
A song of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms�a song of the soil of fields. A song…
A Broadway Pageant By Walt Whitman
Over the western sea, hither from Niphon come,Courteous, the swart-cheek’d two-sworded envoys,Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,Ride to-day through Manhattan. Libertad!I do not…
A Boston Ballad, 1854 By Walt Whitman
To get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early;Here’s a good place at the corner–I must stand and see the show. Clear the…
1861 By Walt Whitman
Arm’d year! year of the struggle!No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year!Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk,…
With Flowers. By Emily Dickinson
If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not; And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot! And if to miss were merry, And if to mourn were gay, How very…
With Flowers. By Emily Dickinson
South winds jostle them, Bumblebees come, Hover, hesitate, Drink, and are gone. Butterflies pause On their passage Cashmere; I, softly plucking, Present them here!
With A Flower. By Emily Dickinson
When roses cease to bloom, dear, And violets are done, When bumble-bees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the sun, The hand that paused to gather Upon this summer’s…
With A Flower. By Emily Dickinson
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too — And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower, That,…