Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен)

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 23. Red Jacket (From Aloft)

Upon this scene, this show,
Yielded to-day by fashion, learning, wealth,
(Nor in caprice alone—some grains of deepest meaning,)
Haply, aloft, (who knows?) from distant sky-clouds' blended shapes,
As some old tree, or rock or cliff, thrill'd with its soul,
Product of Nature's sun, stars, earth direct—a towering human form,
In hunting-shirt of film, arm'd with the rifle, a half-ironical
      smile curving its phantom lips,
Like one of Ossian's ghosts looks down.

1. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 13. Bravo, Paris Exposition!
2. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 24. Hast Never Come to Thee an Hour
3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 40. The Voice of the Rain
4. Leaves of Grass. 17. Birds of Passage. 5. Myself and Mine
5. Leaves of Grass. 5. Calamus. 34. To a Western Boy

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1903

Последние стихотворения

To English version