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American appeared beauty became bird blue born bright brown clear clouds color comes dark dead death door dream earth Emily eyes face fall feel feet field fire flower followed Frost give grass green hand head hear heard heart heaven hills hold keep knew land later leaves less light lines live look lost Masters mind Miss moon mother moved never night once pass play poems poet poetry published rise round seems silence singing sleep song soul sound spirit spring stand stars stone strong tell things thought trees turned verse voice volume wait walk wall Whitman wind woods writing wrote young
Page 91 - Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun.
Page 111 - Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world.
Page 63 - AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.
Page 61 - Why should I wish to see God better than this day? I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass...
Page 422 - There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate...
Page 71 - WHEN lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd, And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Page 75 - Prais'd be the fathomless universe, For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love — but praise! praise! praise! For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death. Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Page 218 - Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.