Leaves of Grass

by Walt Whitman Narrated by Digital Voice Michelle G

Overview

This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass is more than a collection of poetry-it is a celebration of life, humanity, and the boundless spirit of America. First published in 1855 and expanded throughout Whitman's lifetime, this groundbreaking work shattered conventions with its bold free verse and candid exploration of identity, democracy, nature, love, and the human body. Each poem pulses with raw energy and unfiltered truth, inviting readers to embrace the beauty of the ordinary and the extraordinary alike.

From the iconic “Song of Myself” to meditations on the soul, death, and the ever-changing landscapes of the world, Whitman crafts a vision of unity that speaks as powerfully today as it did over a century ago. Leaves of Grass is not simply to be read-it is to be experienced. Its words inspire, provoke, and remind us of our shared humanity.

Perfect for lovers of poetry, philosophy, and timeless literature, this classic remains one of the most influential works ever written.

Editorial Reviews

Booknews

A selection of the writings of Whitman from the volumes , , , , , , , , , , , , and others. Annotation c. by Book News, Inc., Portland, Or.

From the Publisher

Whitman's best poems have that permanent quality of being freshly painted, of not being dulled by the varnish of the years.”—Malcolm Cowley

Product Details

BN ID:	2940203452696
Publisher:	Walt Whitman
Publication date:	09/24/2025
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

One's Self I Sing

One's-Self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.

Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.

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As I Ponder'd in Silence

As I ponder'd in silence,
Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,
A Phantom arose before me with distrustful aspect,
Terrible in beauty, age, and power,
The genius of poets of old lands,
As to me directing like flame its eyes,
With finger pointing to many immortal songs,
And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said,
Know'st thou not there is hut one theme for ever-enduring bards?
And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles,
The making of perfect soldiers.

Be it so, then I answer'd.
I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any,
Waged in my book with varying fortune, with flight, advance and retreat, victory deferr'd and wavering,
(Yet methinks certain, or as good as certain, at the last,) the field the world,
For life and death., for the Body and for the eternal Soul,
Lo, I too am come, chanting the chant of battles,
I above all promote brave soldiers.

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