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| Search results for: p | Found 8786 Poems |
| 771. | To the Reader at Parting. by Walt Whitman | | NOW, dearest comrade, lift me to your face,
We must separate awhile—Here! take from my lips this kiss.
Whoever you are, I give it especially to ... |
| 772. | In the New Garden in all the Parts. by Walt Whitman | | IN the new garden, in all the parts,
In cities now, modern, I wander,
Though the second or third result, or still further, primitive yet,
Days, ... |
| 773. | Patroling Barnegat. by Walt Whitman | | WILD, wild the storm, and the sea high running,
Steady the roar of the gale, with incessant undertone muttering,
Shouts of demoniac laughter fitfu... |
| 774. | Spirit That Form’d This Scene. by Walt Whitman | | SPIRIT that form’d this scene,
These tumbled rock-piles grim and red,
These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,
These gorges, turbulent-clear str... |
| 775. | By Broad Potomac’s Shore. by Walt Whitman | | 1
BY broad Potomac’s shore—again, old tongue!
(Still uttering—still ejaculating—canst never cease this babble?)
Again, old heart so gayâ€... |
| 776. | Ah Poverties, Wincings and Sulky Retreats. by Walt Whitman | | AH poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats!
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me!
(For what is my life, or any man’s life, but a confli... |
| 777. | O Bitter Sprig! Confession Sprig! by Walt Whitman | | O BITTER sprig! Confession sprig!
In the bouquet I give you place also—I bind you in,
Proceeding no further till, humbled publicly,
I give fai... |
| 778. | Lo! Victress on the Peaks. by Walt Whitman | | LO! Victress on the peaks!
Where thou, with mighty brow, regarding the world,
(The world, O Libertad, that vainly conspired against thee;)
Out o... |
| 779. | What Place is Besieged? by Walt Whitman | | WHAT place is besieged, and vainly tries to raise the siege?
Lo! I send to that place a commander, swift, brave, immortal;
And with him horse and ... |
| 780. | Not Heat Flames up and Consumes. by Walt Whitman | | NOT heat flames up and consumes,
Not sea-waves hurry in and out,
Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe summer, bears lightly along w... |
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