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  1. 4 de abr. de 2022 · Listener up there! what have you to confide to me? Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

  2. en.wikipedia.org › wiki › Walt_WhitmanWalt Whitman - Wikipedia

    In February 1868, Poems of Walt Whitman was published in England thanks to the influence of William Michael Rossetti, with minor changes that Whitman reluctantly approved. The edition became popular in England, especially with endorsements from the highly respected writer Anne Gilchrist.

  3. By Walt Whitman. 1. Flood-tide below me! I see you face to face! Clouds of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you also face to face. Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me! On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose, And ...

  4. Há 4 dias · Walt Whitman was an American poet, journalist and essayist whose verse collection Leaves of Grass, first published in 1855, is a landmark in the history of American literature. His aim was to transcend traditional epics and to eschew normal aesthetic form.

  5. The Walt Whitman Archive, edited by Matt Cohen, Ed Folsom, & Kenneth M. Price, is published by the Center for Digital Research in the Humanities at the University of Nebraska–⁠Lincoln under a Creative Commons License.

  6. Há 6 dias · Walt Whitman. 1819 –. 1892. Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot, Down from the shower’d halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows ...

  7. Cerca de 37 poemas de Walt Whitman. Às vezes com a pessoa a quem amo. Às vezes com a pessoa a quem amo. Fico cheio de raiva. Por medo de estar só eu dando amor. Sem ser retribuído; Agora eu penso que não pode haver amor. Sem retribuição, que a paga é certa. De uma forma ou de outra.