Leaves of Grass

  Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain,

      to teach robust American love,

  For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you,

      inland, and along the Western sea;

  For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I will also.

Here the Frailest Leaves of Me

  Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting,

  Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them,

  And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.

No Labor-Saving Machine

  No labor-saving machine,

  Nor discovery have I made,

  Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to found

      hospital or library,

  Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America,

  Nor literary success nor intellect; nor book for the book-shelf,

  But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave,

  For comrades and lovers.

A Glimpse

  A glimpse through an interstice caught,

  Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove

      late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner,