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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay,
" Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn," Leaves of Grass (Book XX. By the Roadside) 1865 A Font of Type " This latent mine—these unlaunch’d voices—passionate powers," Leaves of Grass (Book XXXIV. Sands at Seventy) A Glimpse " A glimpse through an interstice caught," Leaves of Grass (Book V. Calamus) 1860 A Hand-Mirror
Whispering quick consonants between the branches, borrowing an autumnal aura. Sweet sigh of ripe chestnuts and shed leaves. And here—where the wind steals woodland scents—hides a curiosity.
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze; For above and around me the wild wind is roaring, Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas. The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing, The bare trees are tossing their branches on high; The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing, The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky
"Louise" is a song written by Leo Robin and Richard A. Whiting for the 1929 film Innocents of Paris, where it was performed by Maurice Chevalier. [2] [3] The song was Chevalier's first hit in the United States, and was among the best selling records for 10 weeks in the summer of 1929. [4]
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust — Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
The second canto discusses the wind's effect on the air. The sky's "clouds"(16) are "like earth's decaying leaves" (16). This is a reference to the second line of the first canto ("leaves dead", 2). The clouds also are numerous in number like the dead leaves. Through this reference the landscape is recalled again.
She was dissatisfied with the book, in part because of her lack of control over the content. She complained "The usual portrayal of myself has been that of a sweet, gentle Indian maiden—whispering to the leaves—swaying with the breeze, tra la—. No, no, I’m a rebel really." [16]