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| Preface | |
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| About the Editors | |
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| The Literature of the Late Nineteenth Century [New] | |
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| Reading the Historical Context [New] | |
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| From Life on the Mississippi [Sir Walter Scott and the Southern Character] [New] | |
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| From The Invisible Empire [New] Reading the Critical Context | |
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| From Criticism and Fiction [The Ideal Grasshopper] [American Fiction] | |
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| The Art of Fiction [New] | |
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| Fenimore Coopers Literary Offences | |
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| The Literature of the Late Nineteenth Century | |
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| Preface to the 1855 Edition of Leaves of Grass Song of Myself | |
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| From Inscriptions To You Ones-Self | |
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| I Sing When I read the book I Hear America Singing Poets to Come | |
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| From Children of Adam From pent-up aching rivers | |
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| Out of the rolling ocean the crowd | |
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| As Adam, Early in the Morning Once | |
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| I passd through a populous city Facing west from Californias shores | |
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| From Calamus In paths untrodden Scented herbage of my breast | |
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| What Think You I take My Pen In Hand? | |
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| I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing | |
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| I hear it was charged against me Crossing Brooklyn Ferry | |
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| From Sea-Drift Out of the cradle endlessly rocking As I ebbd with the ocean of life | |
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| From By the Roadside When I heard the learnd astronomer | |
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| The Dalliance of the Eagles | |
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| From Drum-Taps Beat! Beat! Drums! Cavalry Crossing a Ford Bivouac on a Mountain Side Vigil strange | |
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| I kept on the field one night | |
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| A march in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown | |
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| A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim The Wound-Dresser | |
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| From Memories of President Lincoln When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomd | |
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| From Autumn Rivulets There was a child went forth Sparkles from the Wheel Who Learns My Lesson Complete? | |
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| Passage to India The Sleepers | |
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| From Whispers of Heavenly Death A noiseless patient spider | |
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| From Noon to Starry Night To a Locomotive in Winter | |
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| From Democratic Vistas | |
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| I never lost as much but twice | |
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| Success is counted sweetest | |
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| For each ecstatic instant | |
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| These are the days when Birds come back | |
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| A Wounded Deer leaps highest | |
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| Faith is a fine invention | |
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| The thought beneath so slight a film | |
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| I taste a liquor never brewed | |
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| Safe in their Alabaster Chambers | |
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| I like a look of Agony | |
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| Wild Nights Wild Nights! | |
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| Theres a certain Slant of light | |
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| I felt a Funeral, in my Brain | |
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| A Clock stopped | |
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| The Soul selects her own Society | |
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| Some keep the Sabbath going to Church | |
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| A Bird came down the Walk | |
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| I know that He exists | |
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| After great pain, a formal feeling comes | |
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| What Soft Cherubic Creatures | |
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| Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch | |
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| Much Madness is divinest Sense | |
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| This is my letter to the World | |
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| This was a Poet It is That | |
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| I died for Beauty but was scarce | |
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| I heard a Fly buzz when I died | |
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| It was not Death, for I stood up | |
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| I started Early Took my Dog | |
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| I like to see it lap the Miles | |
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| They shut me up in Prose | |
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| The Brain is wider than the sky | |
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| I cannot live with You | |
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| Pain has an Element of Blank | |
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| I dwell in Possibility | |
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| One need not be a | |