Whitman, as Printed

‹ Leaves of Grass, 1855

The lines with “his”

his 237 Back to H

  1. p. iii, line 14[…] approaches . . . and that he shall be fittest for his days […]
  2. p. iii, line 63[…] significance of their elections—the President's taking off his hat to them not they to him—these too are […]
  3. p. iv, line 8[…] he gives them reception for their sake and his own sake. His spirit responds to his country's spirit . . . . he […]
  4. p. iv, line 9[…] reception for their sake and his own sake. His spirit responds to his country's spirit . . . . he incarnates its geography and natural life and […]
  5. p. iv, line 105[…] is the key. He is the equalizer of his age and land . . . . he supplies what wants supplying and checks […]
  6. p. v, line 13[…] a concentrated light . . . he turns the pivot with his finger . . . he baffles the swiftest runners as he stands and […]
  7. p. v, line 17[…] infidelity and confections and persiflage he withholds by his steady faith . . . he spreads out his dishes . . . he offers the sweet firmfibred meat that grows men […]
  8. p. v, line 19[…] sweet firmfibred meat that grows men and women. His brain is the ultimate brain. He is no arguer . . . he […]
  9. p. v, line 23[…] sees the farthest he has the most faith. His thoughts are the hymns of the praise of things. In […]
  10. p. v, line 25[…] the soul and eternity and God off of his equal plane he is silent. He sees eternity less like […]
  11. p. v, line 117[…] years will not prevail. Who troubles himself about his ornaments or fluency is lost. This is what youshall do […]
  12. p. vi, line 18[…] of your body. . . . . . . . The poet shall not spend his time in unneeded work. He shall know that the ground […]
  13. p. vi, line 22[…] shall. He shall go directly to the creation. His trust shall master the trust of everything he touches . . . . and […]
  14. p. vi, line 29[…] fortune or misfortune and persuades daily and hourly his delicious pay. What balks or breaks others is fuel for […]
  15. p. vi, line 30[…] What balks or breaks others is fuel for his burning progress to contact and amorous joy. Other proportions of […]
  16. p. vi, line 33[…] the reception of pleasure dwindle to nothing to his proportions. All expected from heaven or from the highest he […]
  17. p. vi, line 36[…] or the presence of children playing or with his arm round the neck of a man or woman. His […]
  18. p. vi, line 37[…] round the neck of a man or woman. His love above all love has leisure and expanse . . . . he leaves […]
  19. p. vi, line 41[…] suspicious lover . . . he is sure . . . he scorns intervals. His experience and the showers and thrills are not for nothing […]
  20. p. vi, line 47[…] sea than he is of the fruition of his love and of all perfection and beauty […]
  21. p. vi, line 92[…] present. The greatest poet does not only dazzle his rays over character and scenes and passions . . . he finally ascends […]
  22. p. vi, line 97[…] the extremest verge. He is most wonderful in his last half-hidden smile or frown . . . by that flash of the […]
  23. p. vi, line 109[…] close betwixt both and they are vital in his style and thoughts […]
  24. p. vii, line 21[…] the free channel of himself. He swears to his art, I will not be meddlesome, I will not have […]
  25. p. vii, line 37[…] by their unconstraint. A heroic person walks at his ease through and out of that custom or precedent or […]
  26. p. vii, line 87[…] no checks on the greatest poet but always his encouragement and support. The outset and remembrance are there . . there […]
  27. p. vii, line 90[…] brace him best . . . . there he returns after all his goings and comings. The sailor and traveler . . the anatomist chemist […]
  28. p. viii, line 113[…] than the poorest free mechanic or farmer with his hat unmoved from his head and firm eyes and a […]
  29. p. viii, line 115[…] mechanic or farmer with his hat unmoved from his head and firm eyes and a candid and generous heart […]
  30. p. ix, line 101[…] to be parts of the greatest poet from his birth out of his mother's womb and from her birth out of her mother's […]
  31. p. ix, line 108[…] solid gains and did well for himself and his family and completed a lawful life without debt or crime […]
  32. p. x, line 102[…] heart of man or by the divinity of his mouth or by the shaping of his great hands . . and […]
  33. p. x, line 103[…] of his mouth or by the shaping of his great hands . . and all that is well thought or done […]
  34. p. xi, line 17[…] knows that the young man who composedly periled his life and lost it has done exceeding well for himself […]
  35. p. xi, line 19[…] himself, while the man who has not periled his life and retains it to old age in riches and […]
  36. p. xi, line 27[…] waiting to meet him again—and who in his spirit in any emergency whatever neither hurries or avoids death […]
  37. p. xi, line 32[…] oceanic tides . . . . . and if he does not attract his own land body and soul to himself and hang on […]
  38. p. xi, line 34[…] on its neck with incomparable love and plunge his semitic muscle into its merits and demerits . . . and if he […]
  39. p. xi, line 47[…] him merge in the general run and wait his developement. . . . . . . . Still the final test of poems or any character […]
  40. p. xi, line 56[…] thought and judgment and behaviour fixed him or his so that either can be looked down upon? Have the […]
  41. p. xi, line 59[…] the right hand and the left hand for his sake? Is he beloved long and long after he is […]
  42. p. xi, line 98[…] priests of man, and every man shall be his own priest. The churches built under their umbrage shall be […]
  43. p. xii, line 40[…] and wellhung man, and a woman to be his perfect and independent mate? Does it improve manners? Is it […]
  44. p. xii, line 72[…] true. The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it […]
  45. p. 18, line 2The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
  46. p. 18, line 7The excited crowd—the policeman with his star quickly working his passage to the centre of the crowd;
  47. p. 19, line 1Her father and his friends sat near by crosslegged and dumbly smoking . . . . they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders;
  48. p. 19, line 2On a bank lounged the trapper . . . . he was dressed mostly in skins . . . . his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck,
  49. p. 19, line 3One hand rested on his rifle . . . . the other hand held firmly the wrist of the red girl,
  50. p. 19, line 6I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
  51. p. 19, line 9And brought water and filled a tub for his sweated body and bruised feet,
  52. p. 19, line 11And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
  53. p. 19, line 12And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
  54. p. 20, line 3The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market,
  55. p. 20, line 4I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and breakdown.
  56. p. 20, line 6Each has his main-sledge . . . . they are all out . . . . there is a great heat in the fire.
  57. p. 20, line 10They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.
  58. p. 20, line 11The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses . . . . the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain,
  59. p. 20, line 13His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over his hipband,
  60. p. 20, line 14His glance is calm and commanding . . . . he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead,
  61. p. 20, line 15The sun falls on his crispy hair and moustache . . . . falls on the black of his polish'd and perfect limbs.
  62. p. 20, line 30The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
  63. p. 21, line 20The carpenter dresses his plank . . . . the tongue of his foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp,
  64. p. 21, line 29He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother's bedroom;
  65. p. 21, line 30The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,
  66. p. 21, line 31He turns his quid of tobacco, his eyes get blurred with the manuscript;
  67. p. 21, line 35The machinist rolls up his sleeves . . . . the policeman travels his beat . . . . the gatekeeper marks who pass,
  68. p. 22, line 2The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race,
  69. p. 22, line 4Out from the crowd steps the marksman and takes his position and levels his piece;
  70. p. 22, line 6The woollypates hoe in the sugarfield, the overseer views them from his saddle;
  71. p. 22, line 10The reformer ascends the platform, he spouts with his mouth and nose,
  72. p. 22, line 19The pavingman leans on his twohanded rammer—the reporter's lead flies swiftly over the notebook—the signpainter is lettering with red and gold,
  73. p. 22, line 20The canal-boy trots on the towpath—the bookkeeper counts at his desk—the shoemaker waxes his thread,
  74. p. 22, line 24The drover watches his drove, he sings out to them that would stray,
  75. p. 22, line 25The pedlar sweats with his pack on his back—the purchaser higgles about the odd cent,
  76. p. 23, line 3The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle,
  77. p. 23, line 6In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers;
  78. p. 23, line 10The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep with his axe,
  79. p. 23, line 18The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife;
  80. p. 31, line 28The judge with hands tight to the desk, his shaky lips pronouncing a death-sentence,
  81. p. 32, line 9The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.
  82. p. 34, line 29Not one kneels to another nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
  83. p. 35, line 9His nostrils dilate . . . . my heels embrace him . . . . his well built limbs tremble with pleasure . . . . we speed around and return.
  84. p. 35, line 24Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock . . . . where the otter is feeding on fish,
  85. p. 35, line 25Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
  86. p. 35, line 26Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey . . . . where the beaver pats the mud with his paddle-tail;
  87. p. 36, line 30Where the mockingbird sounds his delicious gurgles, and cackles and screams and weeps,
  88. p. 36, line 32Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, and the stud to the mare, and the cock is treading the hen,
  89. p. 39, line 12The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck,
  90. p. 40, line 12Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general . . . . he furiously waves with his hand,
  91. p. 41, line 4A youth not seventeen years old seized his assassin till two more came to release him,
  92. p. 41, line 11Our foe was no skulk in his ship, I tell you,
  93. p. 41, line 12His was the English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be;
  94. p. 41, line 15My captain lashed fast with his own hands.
  95. p. 41, line 27Two well-served with grape and canister silenced his musketry and cleared his decks.
  96. p. 42, line 7He was not hurried . . . . his voice was neither high nor low,
  97. p. 42, line 8His eyes gave more light to us than our battle-lanterns.
  98. p. 42, line 13The captain on the quarter deck coldly giving his orders through a countenance white as a sheet,
  99. p. 42, line 22The hiss of the surgeon's knife and the gnawing teeth of his saw,
  100. p. 42, line 26What the rebel said gaily adjusting his throat to the rope-noose,
  101. p. 42, line 27What the savage at the stump, his eye-sockets empty, his mouth spirting whoops and defiance,
  102. p. 42, line 30What burnt the gums of the redcoat at Saratoga when he surrendered his brigades,
  103. p. 43, line 6Not a mutineer walks handcuffed to the jail, but I am handcuffed to him and walk by his side,
  104. p. 44, line 14They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers,
  105. p. 44, line 15They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath . . . . they fly out of the glance of his eyes.
  106. p. 45, line 3To a drudge of the cottonfields or emptier of privies I lean . . . . on his right cheek I put the family kiss,
  107. p. 45, line 28Lithographing Kronos and Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson,
  108. p. 46, line 4Putting higher claims for him there with his rolled-up sleeves, driving the mallet and chisel;
  109. p. 46, line 12Selling all he possesses and traveling on foot to fee lawyers for his brother and sit by him while he is tried for forgery:
  110. p. 46, line 25Now the performer launches his nerve . . . . he has passed his prelude on the reeds within.
  111. p. 49, line 8Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side,
  112. p. 51, line 11My sun has his sun, and round him obediently wheels,
  113. p. 51, line 12He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit,
  114. p. 51, line 26No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
  115. p. 53, line 1The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power but in his own right,
  116. p. 53, line 3Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak,
  117. p. 53, line 21The woodman that takes his axe and jug with him shall take me with him all day,
  118. p. 53, line 24My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his blanket,
  119. p. 53, line 25The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon,
  120. p. 53, line 32And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral, dressed in his shroud,
  121. p. 54, line 17To his work without flinching the accoucheur comes,
  122. p. 55, line 23Who has done his day's work and will soonest be through with his supper?
  123. p. 58, line 16Iroquois eating the warflesh—fishtearer in his lair of rocks and sand . . . . Esquimaux in the dark cold snowhouse . . . . Chinese with his transverse eyes . . . . Bedowee—or wandering nomad—or tabounschik at the head of his droves,
  124. p. 61, line 4It is not the violins and the cornets . . . . it is not the oboe nor the beating drums— nor the notes of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza . . . . nor those of the men's chorus, nor those of the women's chorus,
  125. p. 66, line 22Freemouthed, quicktempered, not badlooking, able to take his own part,
  126. p. 66, line 26Died aged forty-one years . . and that was his funeral.
  127. p. 67, line 22The earth is not an echo . . . . man and his life and all the things of his life are well-considered.
  128. p. 70, line 15The married couple sleep calmly in their bed, he with his palm on the hip of the wife, and she with her palm on the hip of the husband,
  129. p. 72, line 4Darkness you are gentler than my lover . . . . his flesh was sweaty and panting,
  130. p. 73, line 2Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.
  131. p. 73, line 4His brown hair lies close and even to his head . . . . he strikes out with courageous arms . . . . he urges himself with his legs.
  132. p. 73, line 5I see his white body . . . . I see his undaunted eyes;
  133. p. 73, line 8Will you kill the courageous giant? Will you kill him in the prime of his middle age?
  134. p. 73, line 10He is baffled and banged and bruised . . . . he holds out while his strength holds out,
  135. p. 73, line 11The slapping eddies are spotted with his blood . . . . they bear him away . . . . they roll him and swing him and turn him:
  136. p. 73, line 12His beautiful body is borne in the circling eddies . . . . it is continually bruised on rocks,
  137. p. 73, line 25His face is cold and damp . . . . he cannot repress the weeping drops . . . . he lifts the glass perpetually to his eyes . . . . the color is blanched from his cheeks,
  138. p. 74, line 2The chief encircles their necks with his arm and kisses them on the cheek,
  139. p. 74, line 21Now Lucifer was not dead . . . . or if he was I am his sorrowful terrible heir;
  140. p. 75, line 2Autumn and winter are in the dreams . . . . the farmer goes with his thrift,
  141. p. 75, line 6The poor Irishman lives in the simple house of his childhood, with the wellknown neighbors and faces,
  142. p. 75, line 10The Swiss foots it toward his hills . . . . the Prussian goes his way, and the Hungarian his way, and the Pole goes his way,
  143. p. 76, line 15The bare arm of the girl crosses the bare breast of her lover . . . . they press close without lust . . . . his lips press her neck,
  144. p. 76, line 16The father holds his grown or ungrown son in his arms with measureless love . . . . and the son holds the father in his arms with measureless love,
  145. p. 77, line 15The expression of a wellmade man appears not only in his face,
  146. p. 77, line 16It is in his limbs and joints also . . . . it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists,
  147. p. 77, line 17It is in his walk . . the carriage of his neck . . the flex of his waist and knees . . . . dress does not hide him,
  148. p. 78, line 3You linger to see his back and the back of his neck and shoulderside.
  149. p. 78, line 5The swimmer naked in the swimmingbath . . seen as he swims through the salt transparent greenshine, or lies on his back and rolls silently with the heave of the water;
  150. p. 78, line 7The bending forward and backward of rowers in rowboats . . . . the horseman in his saddle;
  151. p. 78, line 11The woodman rapidly swinging his axe in the woods . . . . the young fellow hoeing corn . . . . the sleighdriver guiding his six horses through the crowd,
  152. p. 78, line 22The shape of his head, the richness and breadth of his manners, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard, the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes,
  153. p. 78, line 24He was six feet tall . . . . he was over eighty years old . . . . his sons were massive clean bearded tanfaced and handsome,
  154. p. 79, line 1They and his daughters loved him . . . all who saw him loved him . . . they did not love him by allowance . . . they loved him with personal love;
  155. p. 79, line 2He drank water only . . . . the blood showed like scarlet through the clear brown skin of his face;
  156. p. 79, line 3He was a frequent gunner and fisher . . . he sailed his boat himself . . . he had a fine one presented to him by a shipjoiner . . . . he had fowling-pieces, presented to him by men that loved him;
  157. p. 79, line 4When he went with his five sons and many grandsons to hunt or fish you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang,
  158. p. 79, line 9To pass among them . . to touch any one . . . . to rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment . . . . what is this then?
  159. p. 80, line 7The male is not less the soul, nor more . . . . he too is in his place,
  160. p. 80, line 18Each has his or her place in the procession.
  161. p. 80, line 25I help the auctioneer . . . . the sloven does not half know his business.
  162. p. 81, line 12Within there runs his blood . . . . the same old blood . . the same red running blood;
  163. p. 81, line 13There swells and jets his heart . . . . There all passions and desires . . all reachings and aspirations:
  164. p. 81, line 18How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries?
  165. p. 82, line 6Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body?
  166. p. 83, line 4A wild hawk . . his wings clipped by the clipper,
  167. p. 83, line 24This face owes to the sexton his dismalest fee,
  168. p. 85, line 16A YOUNG man came to me with a message from his brother,
  169. p. 85, line 17How should the young man know the whether and when of his brother?
  170. p. 85, line 19And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand and his left hand in my right hand,
  171. p. 85, line 20And I answered for his brother and for men . . . . and I answered for the poet, and sent these signs.
  172. p. 85, line 21Him all wait for . . . . him all yield up to . . . . his word is decisive and final,
  173. p. 86, line 8He places his own city, times, reminiscences, parents, brothers and sisters, associations employment and politics, so that the rest never shame them afterward, nor assume to command them.
  174. p. 86, line 17His welcome is universal . . . . the flow of beauty is not more welcome or universal than he is,
  175. p. 86, line 20He resolves all tongues into his own, and bestows it upon men . . and any man translates . . and any man translates himself also:
  176. p. 86, line 22He says indifferently and alike, How are you friend? to the President at his levee,
  177. p. 86, line 24And both understand him and know that his speech is right.
  178. p. 87, line 7No matter what the nation, that he might find his brothers and sisters there.
  179. p. 87, line 13The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his perfect blood,
  180. p. 88, line 4Worming from his simplicity the poor man's wages;
  181. p. 88, line 9Each comes in state with his train . . . . hangman, priest and tax-gatherer . . . . soldier, lawyer, jailer and sycophant.
  182. p. 88, line 31He will soon return . . . . his messengers come anon.
  183. p. 89, line 8Every man holds his revolver . . . . marching stiff through Boston town.
  184. p. 90, line 1Dig out King George's coffin . . . . unwrap him quick from the graveclothes . . . . box up his bones for a journey:
  185. p. 91, line 4His own parents . . he that had propelled the fatherstuff at night, and fathered him . . and she that conceived him in her womb and birthed him . . . . they gave this child more of themselves than that,