By GRG

Leaves of Grass

No Labor-Saving Machine
Not Heaving from my Ribb
Alone
Pertains to Me

O My
Always, Always Dying
O Me! O Life!
O Star
O Tan-Faced
You Whom I Often and Silently
Love
That Blithe Throat of Thine
To
Death’s
Old Chants,
An Old War-Dream
I Passed Through
to Madness and Joy

To a Long, Long
Long
Long, Too Long
Fair Moon,
Victress on the Peaks

(I was asking)
(My noble name)
Man-of-War-Bird,
Me Imperturbe
Memories
MEMORIES
Miracles
Mirages
From
Music Always Round Me,
My Legacy
My Picture-Gallery
Myself and Mine
The Moments
on the
Noiseless Patient Spider,

I, treating of him as he is in himself
great pride of man,
outlining what is yet to be,
I project the history of the future.

TO THEE

To thee
peerless, passionate good
stern, remorseless, sweet
Deathless
a strange sad war, great war thee,
(I think all war through time was really fought, and ever will be really fought, for thee,)
These chants for thee, the eternal thee.

(A war not for itself alone,
now to advance in this book.)

Thou of many
seething principle! thou centre!
Around thee the war
With all its angry and vehement play
for thee, — my book and the war are one,
I and mine,
this book
thee.