Poetry Catalog

Nations ten thousand years before these States, and many times ten thousand years before these States,Garner’d clusters of ages that men and women like us grew up and travel’d their course and pass’d on,What vast-built cities, what orderly republics, what pastoral tribes and nomads,What histories, rulers, heroes, perhaps transcending all others,What laws, customs, wealth, arts, … [Read more...] about Unnamed Land, By: Walt Whitman

Courage yet, my brother or my sister!Keep on—Liberty is to be subserv’d whatever occurs;That is nothing that is quell’d by one or two failures, or anynumber of failures,Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or by anyunfaithfulness,Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon, penal statutes. What we believe in waits latent forever through all the … [Read more...] about To A Foil’d European Revolutionaire, By: Walt Whitman

1 Something startles me where I thought I was safest,I withdraw from the still woods I loved,I will not go now on the pastures to walk,I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea,I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me. O how can it be that the ground itself does not sicken?How can you be alive you growths of spring?How … [Read more...] about This Compost, By: Walt Whitman

By the city dead-house by the gate,As idly sauntering wending my way from the clangor,I curious pause, for lo, an outcast form, a poor dead prostitute brought,Her corpse they deposit unclaim’d, it lies on the damp brick pavement,The divine woman, her body, I see the body, I look on it alone,That house once full of passion and beauty, all else I notice not,Nor stillness so cold, … [Read more...] about The City Dead-House, By: Walt Whitman

Far hence amid an isle of wondrous beauty,Crouching over a grave an ancient sorrowful mother,Once a queen, now lean and tatter’d seated on the ground,Her old white hair drooping dishevel’d round her shoulders,At her feet fallen an unused royal harp,Long silent, she too long silent, mourning her shrouded hope and heir,Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow because most … [Read more...] about Old Ireland, By: Walt Whitman