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Leaves of Grass is a collection of poems by Walt Whitman originally published in 1855 at the poet's own expense. Criticized when first released for Whitman's use of free verse and his rather racy depictions of sexual love and the senses, Leaves of Grassis a celebration of the human form, the material world and nature.
Whitman's verse-technique is still of interest to the prosodist. His basic rhythm is an epic one—the Virgilian dactyl-spondee—and his line often hexametric. He sometimes sounds like Clough's Amours de Voyage, though it would be hard to imagine a greater disparity of tone and attitude than that which subsists between these two Victorians. Nevertheless, both Clough and Whitman saw that the loose hexameter could admit the contemporary and sometimes the colloquial..
He has only one subject—acceptance of the life-death cycle and reverence for it—and, since he uses an invariable technique, Leaves of Grass has a unity to be found in few other poets' collected volumes... But Whitman's aim is rather to present a universal democratic vista in terms of the American myth. The America of his poems sometimes seems as symbolic as that of Blake, and the bearded figure that strides across it with a big hello—the Answerer, all things to all men—is as much a home-made archetype as the Giant Albion.
Nature may have given the hint to the author of the "Leaves of Grass", but there exists no book or fragment of a book, which can have given the hint to them. All beauty, he says, comes from beautiful blood and a beautiful brain... Who then is that insolent unknown? Who is it, praising himself as if others were not fit to do it, and coming rough and unbidden among writers to unsettle what was settled, and to revolutionize, in fact, our modern civilization?
You have come in good time, Walt Whitman! In opinions, in manners, in costumes, in books, in the aims and occupancy of life, in associates, in poems, conformity to all unnatural and tainted customs passes without remark, while perfect naturalness, health, faith, self-reliance, and all primal expressions of the manliest love and friendship, subject one to the stare and controversy of the world.
afegit per SnootyBaronet | editaThe United States Review, Walt Whitman(Sep 1, 1855)
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Come, said my Soul, Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after death invisibly return, Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with pleas'd smile I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning - as, first, I here and now Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name, Walt Whitman
Dedicatòria
Primeres paraules
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One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse.
I celebrate myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.
Citacions
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Melange mine own, the unseen and the seen, Mysterious ocean where the streams empty, Prophetic spirit of materials shifting and flickering around me, Living beings, identities now doubtless near us in the air that we know not of, Contact daily and hourly that will not release me, These selecting, these in hints demanded of me.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Darreres paraules
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Yet let me not be too hasty, Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter'd, become really blended into one; Then if we die together, (yes, we'll remain one,) If we go anywhere we'll go together to meet what happens, May-be we'll be better off and blither, and learn something, May-be it is yourself now really ushering me to the true songs, (who knows?) May-be it is you the mortal knob really undoing, turning -- so now finally, Good-bye -- and hail! my Fancy.
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Whitman revised Leaves of Grass at numerous points in his lifetime, frequently with significant changes between editions. (e.g. 93 pages for the original 1855 edition vs. 439 pages for the final 1891-92 edition.) This work contains those entries for which the edition is unknown.
If your edition is here and you know which version it is, please separate it and combine it with the correct entry.
Editor de l'editorial
Creadors de notes promocionals a la coberta
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Leaves of Grass is a collection of poems by Walt Whitman originally published in 1855 at the poet's own expense. Criticized when first released for Whitman's use of free verse and his rather racy depictions of sexual love and the senses, Leaves of Grass is a celebration of the human form, the material world and nature.