Here i come creeping, creeping everywhere;
By the dusty roadside,
On the sunny hill-side,
Close by the noisy brook,
In every shady nook,
I come creeping, creeping everywhere.
Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere;
All around the open door,
Where sit the aged poor;
Here where the children...
when the grass shall cover me,
Head to foot where I am lying;
When not any wind that blows,
Summer blooms nor winter snows,
Shall awake me to your sighing:
Close above me as you pass,
You will say, “How kind she was,”
You will say, “How true she was,”
When the grass grows over me.
When the grass...
O to lie in long grasses!
O to dream of the plain!
Where the west wind sings as it passes
A weird and unceasing refrain;
Where the rank grass wallows and tosses,
And the plains’ ring dazzles the eye;
Where hardly a silver cloud bosses
The flashing steel arch of the sky.
To watch the gay gulls as they flutter
Like...
Between two golden tufts of summer grass,
I see the world through hot air as through glass,
And by my face sweet lights and colors pass.
Before me, dark against the fading sky,
I watch three mowers mowing, as I lie:
With brawny arms they sweep in harmony.
Brown English faces by the sun burnt red,
Rich glowing color on bare throat and...
Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind,
And bear ye a’ life’s changes, wi’ a calm and tranquil mind,
Though pressed and hemmed on every side, ha’e faith and ye ’ll win through,
For ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drap o’ dew.
Gin reft frae friends or crest in love, as whiles nae doubt ye ’ve been,
Grief lies deep hidden in your heart or...
The Work of the sun is slow,
But as sure as heaven, we know;
So we ’ll not forget,
When the skies are wet,
There ’s green grass under the snow.
When the winds of winter blow,
Wailing like voices of woe,
There are April showers,
And buds and flowers,
And green grass under the snow.
We find that...
Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;
By the dusty roadside,
On the sunny hillside,
Close by the noisy brook,
In every shady nook,
I come creeping, creeping everywhere.
Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere;
All round the open door,
Where sit the agèd poor;
...
From “The Song of Myself”
A 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 he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,...
Oh Shadow on the Grass,
Art thou a Step or not?
Go make thee fair my Candidate
My nominated Heart —
Oh Shadow on the Grass
While I delay to guess
Some other thou wilt consecrate —
Oh Unelected Face —
On my volcano grows the Grass
A meditative spot —
An acre for a Bird to choose
Would be the General thought —
How red the Fire rocks below
How insecure the sod
Did I disclose
Would populate with awe my solitude.
