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pressing home . . . of all that could be said against that part (and a main part) in the construction of my
ever more complete or convincing, I could never hear the points better put—and then I felt down in my
soul the clear and unmistakable conviction to disobey all, and pursue my own way" (Whitman 281).
that when he spoke of immortality he meant "identity—the survival of the personal soul—your survival, my
God, love, and death become virtually synonymous.The second entry in "Calamus," "Scented Herbage of My
In a line added in 1860 Whitman speaks of the burden of speech as "the secret of my nights and days,"
encompass wider and wider realms of experience: "And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my
own, / And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own" (section 5).These mythic progenitors
you seem to look for something at my hands, / Say, old top-knot, what do you want?"
his introduction to the first German edition of Leaves in 1889, he claimed that "I did not only have my
own country in mind when composing my work.
My observations appear as footnotes.
That is not my goal; nor is it my goal to deal with, for example, the historical issues of Whitman’s,
Also, he is overly fond of O Captain! My Captain!
“O Captain! My Captain!” (Vol.
My Captain!”
When Whitman egged him to comment on “My Captain” (a poem Whitman himself several times ridiculed in
“O Captain! My Captain!”
Whitmanletsfly:“I’mhonestwhenIsay,damn‘MyCaptain’andallthe ‘My Captains’ in my book!
”thatturnedthepoetagainstit:“In some cases, as in Whitman’s ‘O Captain, My Captain,’ the high-water mark
My Captain!
Two of his poems ("O Captain! My Captain!"
Finally, the newspaper Ha'arets (11 October 95) printed Whitman's poem on Lincoln's assassination, "O Captain
My Captain!," as a tribute to Yitzhak Rabin's memory after his assassination.
"What is Yours is Mine, My Father: On One Poem by Walt Whitman."
. . and I split off with the radicals, which led to rows with the boss and 'the party,' and I lost my
My ties and ballasts leave me . . ." ("Song of Myself," section 33).
My Brother's Keeper: James Joyce's Early Years. Ed. Richard Ellmann. New York: Viking, 1958.
Purport" (1891)First published in the last section of Leaves of Grass supervised by the author ("Good-Bye my
One of those children was five-year-old Walt Whitman, who, as he recorded in "My First Reading—Lafayette
"My First Reading—Lafayette." Specimen Days. Vol. 1 of Prose Works 1892. Ed. Floyd Stovall.
constituted true democracy, yet again lauded his poetry for its "bigness and naïvety" and singled out "My
Captain, O my Captain" [sic] as "surely one of the most tender and beautiful poems in any language"
to experience a region that had long been vividly alive in his imagination: "I have found the law of my
My Soul and I: The Inner Life of Walt Whitman. Boston: Beacon, 1985. Feehan, Michael.
I rubbed my eyes a little, to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is
head at nightfall, and he is fain to say,— I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable; I sound my
I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease…observing a spear of summer grass.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeeful green stuff woven.
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.
." ***** "O despairer, here is my neck, You shall not go down! Hang your whole weight upon me."
My moral constitution may be hopelessly tainted or—too sound to be tainted, as the critic wills, but
, Earth of the limpid grey of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far swooping elbowed earth!
The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul."
———Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance ."
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed earth!
the wounded person, My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
Heat and smoke I inspired…I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their
I lie in the night air in my red shirt…the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie, exhausted
"I, too, am not a bit tamed…I, too, am untransla- table untranslatable ; I sound my barbaric yawp over
I could not shut my eyes to their wild, rough beauty nor close my soul to the truths they expressed.
I write simply to express my unqualified disgust with the portions I have read.
more foolish than the rest of the volume:— "I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable, I sound my
The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness, after the rest, and true as any, on the
I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the run-away sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-coloured flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
Have you learned the physiology, phrenology, politics, geography, pride, freedom, friendship, of my land
Earth of the limpid grey of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed Earth!
since, after the closest inquiry, "I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones."
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some the spread of my own body."
As for Mine, Mine has the idea of my own, and what's Mine is my own, and my own is all Mine and believes
in your and my name, the Present time. 6.
I lie in the night air in my red shirt—the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie, exhausted
look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books : ; "You shall not look through my
beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough; To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my
I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you
my respects.
The air tastes good to my palate.
Was't charged against my chants they had forgotten art?
Another song on the death of Lincoln, "Oh Captain! My Captain!"
make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, I reject none, accept all, then reporduce all in my
For the great Idea, That, O my brethren, that is the mission of poets.
I loafe and invite my soul. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of sum- mer summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from
stuck up, and am in my place.
Now comes a passage remarkable for its nobility: "With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums
I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.
are famous everywhere; and, though later efforts have been less happy, the one exquisite song, "O, Captain
My Captain!" written on the death of Lincoln, would make him one of our honored poets forever.
future," "You do not understand me, you cannot understand me, but I can wait hundreds of years for my
— The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.
"Not objecting to special revelations, considering a curl of smoke or a hair on the back of my hand just
O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! O Captain, my Captain!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain, my Captain, rise up and hear the bells.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
Exult O shores, and ring O bells, But I with mournful tread Walk the deck my Captain lies, To analyze
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron or my ankles with iron?
do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
"The chief end I purpose to myself in all my labours," wrote Dean Swift, "is to vex the world rather
and flows": "This day, before dawn, I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my
And my spirit said ' No .'"
suddenly,—reservedly, with a beautiful paucity of communication, even silently, such was its effect on my
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
and 73d Years of These States," "A Boston Ballad (1854)," "There Was a Child Went Forth," "Who Learns My
My fit is mastering me!"
Ballad (1854)," would be hard to fit into "Song of Myself," and the omission of the slight "Who Learns My
himself the murderous impulse which may precipitate his fits of existential anxiety and sexual guilt: "My
—They retard my book very much" (Correspondence 1:44).
reveals a darker Whitman, suspicious, uncertain, and lonely: "Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my
Leaves contains only six new poems ("Inscription" [later "One's-Self I Sing" and "Small the Theme of My
most recognizable image of the "Ship of State" had been published in the popular 1865–1866 text, "O Captain
My Captain!
poems (five) contained in the 1876 Leaves: four intercalated poems and the title page's "Come, said my
Although one additional poem, "Come, said my Soul," would later be restored to the Leaves as epigraph
Between the poems and the essay, filling pages 405–422, appeared the second annex, "Good-Bye my Fancy
of his long labors: "L. of G. at last complete—after 33 y'rs of hackling at it, all times & moods of my
work, books especially, has pass'd; and waiting till fully after that, I have given (pages 423–438) my
by the 1889 text of the poems of Leaves of Grass; the two annexes, "Sands at Seventy" and "Good-Bye my
thereof—and no less in myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my
ever united lands—my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made one identity, any more than
my lands are inevitably united, and made one identity, Nativities, climates, the grass of the great
trousers around my boots, and my cuffs back from my wrists, and go with drivers and boatmen and men
gab and my loitering.
to my barestript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet. (15)
to my bare-stript heart, And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.
You my rich blood!
of Leaves of Grass, Whitman added the supplementary annexes "Sands at Seventy" (1888) and "Good-Bye my
I sound triumphal drums for the dead—I fling thro' my embouchures the loudest and gayest music for them
their dead songs about dead Europe, and its stupid monks and priests, its chivalry, and its thing a-my-bobs
I Wish to Give My Own View': Some Nineteenth-Century Women's Responses to the 1860 Leaves of Grass."
wrestling, boiling-hot days" (1336).Concluding the letter, Whitman calls Emerson "the original true Captain
I round and finish little, if anything; and could not consistently with my scheme.
"'Leaves of Grass' indeed (I cannot too often reiterate) has mainly been the outcropping of my own emotional
No one will get at my verses who insists upon viewing them as a literary performance, or as aiming mainly
Whitman's poems, "O Captain! My Captain!"
Whitman eventually added four poems: "O Captain! My Captain!
"O Captain!"
The Lincoln poems, particularly "O Captain!
"Damn My Captain," he said, "I'm almost sorry I ever wrote the poem" (With Walt Whitman 2:304).
pieces, "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" (1865-1866) and one of his best-known poems, "O Captain
My Captain!" (1865-1866).
Whitman intensely admired Lincoln from the late 1850s onward, remarking at one point, "After my dear,
"Hush'd Be the Camps To-day" and the other Lincoln poems ("Lilacs," "O Captain!
"No one will get at my verses who insists upon viewing them as a literary performance, or attempt at
"I am not literary, my books are not literature," he proclaimed to Horace Traubel (With Walt Whitman
"The whole drift of my books is to form a new race of fuller & athletic yet unknown characters, men &
Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Terrified with myself that I have dared to open my
echoes re- coil recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my