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debris
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Leaves of Grass
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debris
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Leaves of Grass
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  • You friable shore with trails of debris, You fish-shaped island, I take what is underfoot, What is yours is mine my father.
  • I am the mash’d fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have clear’d the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth.
  • I too Paumanok, I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float, and been wash’d on your shores, I too am but a trail of drift and debris, I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped island.
  • But aside from these and the marts of wealth and the crowded promenade, Admitting around me comrades close unseen by the rest and voiceless, The slain elate and alive again, the dust and debris alive, I chant this chant of my silent soul in the name of all dead soldiers.
  • I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris and debris of all the slain soldiers of the war, But I saw they were not as was thought, They themselves were fully at rest, they suffer’d not, The living remain’d and suffer’d, the mother suffer’d, And the wife and the child and the musing comrade suffer’d, And the armies that remain’d suffer’d.
  • I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, I saw the debris and debris of all the slain soldiers of the war, But I saw they were not as was thought, They themselves were fully at rest, they suffer’d not, The living remain’d and suffer’d, the mother suffer’d, And the wife and the child and the musing comrade suffer’d, And the armies that remain’d suffer’d.
  • ) A Voice from Death A voice from Death, solemn and strange, in all his sweep and power, With sudden, indescribable blow—towns drown’d—humanity by thousands slain, The vaunted work of thrift, goods, dwellings, forge, street, iron bridge, Dash’d pell-mell by the blow—yet usher’d life continuing on, (Amid the rest, amid the rushing, whirling, wild debris, A suffering woman saved—a baby safely born!
  • ) 5 Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities, Amid lanes and through old woods, where lately the violets peep’d from the ground, spotting the gray debris, Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes, passing the endless grass, Passing the yellow-spear’d wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen, Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards, Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave, Night and day journeys a
  • Spain, 1873-74 Out of the murk of heaviest clouds, Out of the feudal wrecks and heap’d-up skeletons of kings, Out of that old entire European debris, the shatter’d mummeries, Ruin’d cathedrals, crumble of palaces, tombs of priests, Lo, Freedom’s features fresh undimm’d look forth—the same immortal face looks forth; (A glimpse as of thy Mother’s face Columbia, A flash significant as of a sword, Beaming towards thee.

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  • He swept up the debris.
  • Debris from floods had caught in the limbs,
    Wilson Rawls  --  Where the Red Fern Grows

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