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Leaves of grass.

  
[title page]
  
CONTENTS.
  
INSCRIPTION.

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[book]
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STARTING FROM PAUMANOK.
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WALT WHITMAN.
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CHILDREN OF ADAM.
  
EXCELSIOR.
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CALAMUS.
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SALUT AU MONDE!
  
WHAT PLACE IS BESIEGED?
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LEAVES OF GRASS.
  
BEGINNERS.
  
TESTS.
  
PERFECTIONS.
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SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE.
  
WITH ANTECEDENTS.
  
SAVANTISM.
  
CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY.
  
TO A FOIL'D REVOLTER OR REVOLTRESS.
  
TO GET BETIMES IN BOSTON TOWN.
  
TO A COMMON PROSTITUTE.
  
TO A PUPIL.
  
TO RICH GIVERS.
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A WORD OUT OF THE SEA.
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A LEAF OF FACES.
  
STRONGER LESSONS.
  
EUROPE, The 72d and 73d Years of These States.
  
THOUGHT.
  
THE RUNNER.
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TO THE SAYERS OF WORDS.
 1. 
1
 2. 
2
 3. 
3
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4
 5. 
5
 6. 
6
 7. 
7
  
LONGINGS FOR HOME.
  
TO A PRESIDENT.
  
WALT WHITMAN'S CAUTION.
  
TO OTHER LANDS.
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SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD.
  
TO THE STATES, To Identify the 16th, 17th, or 18th Presidentiad.
  
TO A CERTAIN CANTATRICE.
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TO WORKINGMEN.
  
DEBRIS.
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LEAVES OF GRASS.
  
AMERICAN FEUILLAGE.
  
MANNAHATTA.
  
To You.
  
FRANCE, The 18th Year of These States.
  
A HAND-MIRROR.
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THOUGHTS.
  
TO HIM THAT WAS CRUCIFIED.
  
TO OLD AGE.
  
TO ONE SHORTLY TO DIE.
  
TO YOU.
  
UNNAMED LANDS.
  
KOSMOS.
  
WHEN I READ THE BOOK.
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SAYS.
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DESPAIRING CRIES.
  
PICTURE.
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POEMS OF JOY.
  
RESPONDEZ!
  
THE CITY DEAD-HOUSE.
  
LEAFLETS.
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LEAVES OF GRASS.
  
VISOR'D.
  
NOT THE PILOT.
  
AS IF A PHANTOM CARESS'D ME.
  
PICTURE.
  
GREAT ARE THE MYTHS.
  
NOW LIST TO MY MORNING'S ROMANZA.
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BURIAL.
  
THIS COMPOST!
  
I HEAR AMERICA SINGING.
  
Manhattan's Streets I Saunter'd, Pondering.
  
I WAS LOOKING A LONG WHILE.
  
THE INDICATIONS.
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LEAVES OF GRASS.
  
ME IMPERTURBE.
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SLEEP-CHASINGS.
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ELEMENTAL DRIFTS.
  
MIRACLES.
  
YOU FELONS ON TRIAL IN COURTS.
  
MEDIUMS.
  
NOW LIFT ME CLOSE.
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WALT WHITMAN'S DRUM -TAPS. New-York. 1865.
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SEQUEL TO DRUM-TAPS. (SINCE THE PRECEDING CAME FROM THE PRESS.) WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOOR-YARD BLOOM'D. AND OTHER PIECES.WASHINGTON. 1865-6.
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LEAVES OF GRASS. SONGS BEFORE PARTING.

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SHUT NOT YOUR DOORS TO ME
PROUD LIBRARIES.

SHUT not your doors to me, proud libraries,
For that which was lacking among you all, yet needed      most, I bring;
A book I have made for your dear sake, O soldiers,
And for you, O soul of man, and you, love of comrades;
The words of my book nothing, the life of it every-     thing;
A book separate, not link'd with the rest, nor felt by      the intellect;
But you will feel every word, O Libertad! arm'd      Libertad!
It shall pass by the intellect to swim the sea, the air,
With joy with you, O soul of man.
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