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Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed earth!
darkness , Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking…preparations to pass to the one we had conquered, The captain
What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition.
You shall stand by my side to look in the mirror with me."
I lie in the night air in my red shirt… the pervading hush is for my sake.
We close with him: the yards entangled… the masts touched: My captain lashed fast with his own hands.
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain— `We have not struck,' he composedly cried
I do not press my finger across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and
Amelioration is my lesson, he says with calm voice, and progress is my lesson and the lesson of all things
I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my
own, He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.
What is commonest and cheapest and nearest and easiest is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for
I sound triumphal drums for the dead—I fling thro' my embouchures the loudest and gayest music for them
head at nightfall, and he is fain to say, "I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable; I sound my
philosopher's life in the quiet woodland ways, Where if I cannot be gay let a passionless peace be my
And my heart is a handful of dust, And the wheels go over my head, And my bones are shaken with pain,
What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition.
You shall stand by my side, and look in the mirror with me."
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
"What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition.
You shall stand by my side and look in the mirror with me."
"I am the teacher of Athletes; He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own, proves the width of
my own; He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher; The boy I love, the same
He rejoices to feel that he is "not stuck up and is in his [my] place," for "The moth and the fish eggs
How perfect is my soul! How perfect the earth and the minutest thing upon it!
Oh, my soul! If I realize you I have satisfaction. Laws of the earth and air!
.—" He is a painter, carver and sculptor: "A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my
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.
I cannot tell how my ankles bend . . . . nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the
To walk up my stoop is unaccountable . . . . I pause to consider if it really be.
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
Speech is the twin of my vision . . . . it is unequal to measure itself.
I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
As every one is immortal, I know it is wonderful; but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and how I was
conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
." ***** "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 ."
camping with lumber-men, Along the ruts of the turnpike . . . along the dry gulch and rivulet bed, Hoeing my
gold-digging . . . girdling the trees of a new purchase, Scorched ankle-deep by the hot sand . . . hauling my
I loafe, and invite my soul; I lean and loafe at my ease— Observing a spear of Summer grass."
I know that the hand of God is the elderhand of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the eldest
brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers…and the women my sisters and
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
is as big to me as any, Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my body.'
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
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake! Far swooping elbowed earth!
he screams to a gaping universe: "I, Walt Whitman, an American, one of the roughs, a Cosmos; I shout my
voice high and clear over the waves; I send my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world."
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the mist, From the thousand responses in my
O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos!"
last yawp, which (the review) you were frank enough to print in your last issue, emboldens me to speak my
Last Winter I got on skates, my first appearance before an icy audience for fifteen years.
U. is the poet of my concern, her suggestion to that effect was a strong point in favor of Mr.
s fondness for poetry doesn't at all interfere with the clearness of my café noir, the lightness of my
with my lordly prerogative.
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
Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Terrified with myself that I have dared to open my
whose echoes recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my
And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me!
I know perfectly well my own egotism. . . .
I will put in my poems, that with you is heroism, upon land and sea. . . .
On my way a moment I pause, Here for you! And here for America!
of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clear- er clearer for my sake!
by the indolent waves, I am exposed, cut by bitter and poisoned hail Steeped amid honeyed morphine , my
darkness Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking—preparations to pass to the one we had conquered— The captain
their dead songs about dead Europe, and its stupid monks and priests, its chivalry, and its thing a-my-bobs
I rubbed my eyes a little to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is
I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you
my respects.
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.
They look at me, and my eyes start out of my head; they speak to me, and I yell with de- light delight
; they touch me, and the flesh crawls off my bones.
heaven, it bears me beyond the stars, I tread upon the air, I sail upon the ether, I spread myself my
O my soul! O your soul, which is no better than my soul, and no worse, but just the same!
O my eye! 1247. These things are not in Webster's Dictionary— Unabridged, Pictorial.
death with the dying, and birth with the new-washed new- washed babe, and am not contained between my
hat and my boots.
I know perfectly well my own egotism.
strong in the knees, and of an inquiring and communicative disposi- tion disposition Also instructive in my
because, being a woman, and having read the uncharitable and bitter attacks upon the book, I wish to give my
There are few poems which I can read with so intense a thrill of exultation at the greatness of my destiny
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!
I loafe and invite my Soul, I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.
The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzzed whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine
, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs
The sound of the belched words of my voice, words loosed to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses
Our poet goes on to say (105): I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or
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
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
O truth of things, I am determined to press my way toward you; Sound your voice!
I exclude you; Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in
All forces have been steadily employed to complete and delight me: Now I stand on this spot with my Soul
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
to be found in these prurient pages and how any respectable House could publish the volume is beyond my
It seem to me more than all the print I have read in my life."
Come, my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your weapons ready; Have you your pistols?
For we cannot tarry here, We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, We, the youthful
O my breast aches with ten- der tender love for all!
See, my children, resolute children, By those swarms upon our rear, we must never yield or falter, Ages
I too with my soul and body, We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way, Through these shores,
"Beginning my studies, the first step pleased me so much, The mere fact, consciousness—these forms—the
pleas'd me so much, I have never gone, and never wish'd to go, any further, But stop and loiter all my
for your dear sake, O soldiers, And for you, O soul of man, and you, love of comrades; The words of my
Whitman as follows: "You came to woo my sister, the human soul.
There are passages in the lines entitled 'Captain, My Captain,' and in the war-lyric commencing 'Beat
When last in the dooryard the lilacs bloomed [sic]," "Chanting the Square Deific," and "As I lay with my
Here it is copied from [the] volume before us:— O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O Captain! my Captain!
Leave you not the little spot, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!
my Captain!
My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
But I with mournful tread Walk the spot my Captain lies, Compare with this, for poetic or pathetic feeling
"One doubt nauseous undulating like a snake, crawl'd on the ground before me, Continually preceding my
and near, (rousing, even in dreams, a devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the depths of my
My other item relates to one of whose merits as an author opinions differ widely.
"My days I sing, and the lands, with interstice I knew of hapless war.