13 posts tagged weekly walt
The Weekly Walt is a weekly series that includes a poem from Walt Whitman.
What am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name?
repeating it over and over;
I stand apart to hear - it never tires me.To you, your name also;
Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in the sound of
your name?
232. “What am I, After All?,” from the 1900 edition of Leaves of Grass.
The Weekly Walt is a weekly series that includes a poem from Walt Whitman.
He is wisest who has the most caution,
He only wins who goes far enough.Any thing is as good as established, when that is established that will produce it and continue it.
The Weekly Walt is a weekly series that includes a poem from Walt Whitman.
I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore,
But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore,
As I lean and look through the glimmering light - the one has utterly
disappeared,
And those appear perplex me.
314. “I Thought I Was Not Alone,” from the 1900 edition of Leaves of Grass.
The Weekly Walt is a weekly series that includes a poem from Walt Whitman.
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.
283. “A Clear Midnight,” from the 1900 edition of Leaves of Grass.
The Weekly Walt is a weekly series that includes a poem from Walt Whitman.
A poem in light of the season’s new growth:
Roots and leaves themselves alone are these;
Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods, and from the pond-side,
Breast-sorrel and pinks of love - fingers that wind around tighter than vines,
Gushes from the throats of birds, hid in the foliage of trees, as the sun is risen;
Breezes of land and love - breezes set from living shores out to you on the living sea - to you, O sailors!
Frost-mellow’d berries, and Third-month twigs, offer’d fresh to young persons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up,
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are,
Buds to be unfolded on the old terms;
If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you;
If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees.
46. “Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone,” from the 1900 edition of Leaves of Grass.
The Weekly Walt is a weekly series that includes a poem from Walt Whitman.
A poem on vulnerability:
Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest-lasting:
Here I shade and hide my thoughts - I myself do not expose them;
And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.
58. “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” from the 1900 edition of Leaves of Grass.
