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This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me

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And now it [grass] seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves, Tenderly will I use you curling grass,It may be you transpire from the breasts of y...more

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Poets to ComePOETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am for;But you, a new brood, native, at...more

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

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I act as the tongue of you,... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

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Songs of myselfClear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, ...more

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Song of myselfA child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than ...more

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I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him or her who shall be complete,The earth remains jagged and broken only to him or her who remains jagg...more

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Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn'd love; But now I think there is no unreturn'd love—the pay is certain,...more

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Song of MyselfI have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There ...more

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I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I loveIf you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.You will hardly know who I am or wha...more

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I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.

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Song of myselfSmile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset--earth of the mountains misty...more

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A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

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What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.