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my Captain!

O the bleeding drops of red, 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 deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done.

Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. II.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells! Rise up!

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 silent tread, Walk the spot my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

It is as follows:— "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 silent tread, Walk the spot my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead."

My recollections of Walt Whitman date back to three or four years prior to the civil war.

Our chambers were the meeting places for several small circles of my young men friends.

My Captain!

But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead."

my captain!" above quoted. But the little KEEPSAKE is prized not the less on that account.

"Give my regards to all the boys in New York city, and don't forget it."

The door was opened in response to my ring by a gentle faced, wistful eyed, elderly woman.

I told him of passages in his writings which I admired and referred particularly to "My Captain," that

bells; But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck; my captain lies Fallen, cold and dead.

I had outstayed the moments to which I was pledged to limit my visit.

"My father was a carpenter and came into that trade by inheritance.

I had begun to think of making my fortune as a builder.

But my subsequent acquaintance with him taught me not to be too hasty in making up my mind about people

I keep up my spirits, but my strength won't stand any extra demands.

Captain, Oh, My Captain."

I made a call upon Captain Green, one of the vice-presidents of the Penn.

calmly: As at thy portals also, death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my

"Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover." — Leaves of Grass .

To my reminiscences of the poet in his later years, and my description of his homes and haunts, let me

The deeply felt emotion with which "My Captain" is read invariably brings tears to the eyes of hearers

My health is reasonably good."

, My Captain," (encouraged by a gentle-kindly ejaculation of "Bravo, bravo!"

Ruskin, however, has recorded himself as my friend."

a log and fired away without listening to any captain's orders.

I stopped working, and from that time my ruin commenced."

They offend my democracy, however.

"I enjoyed it well," was the reply, "and always keep my hand in.

In the year 1885 I lived with my father in a small house in Eagle Street, Bolton.

My father was a millwright in the employ of a large engineering firm in the town, and I—then thirty-one

My mother had died in January of that year, and certain experiences of mine in connection with that event

Soon after her death a few of my intimate friends, who often came singly to see me, began to make a special

the last five or six lines as from my living pulse."

"Yes," he said, "my right arm is my best, but I have a good deal of power in my left."

knee with my bag of crackers.

is the result of my sitting.

And now I'll write my name on it, and I want you to take it to Wallace with my love."

Davis to my wife.

Among my earliest indiscretions was Walt Whitman.

fame and no peril to my immortal soul, not to speak of my standing in society?

Whitman was the author of the lines, and my quoting them among my earliest indiscretions.

No one can read "My Captain" or "Pioneers" without seeing that there was capacity for music in the man

Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.

"As for poetry, my boy, listen to this."

Now, however, I put my faith in humanity.

He said simply but without petulance, and as if he rather pitied my intelligence: "Of course my poetry

And, after all, in "O Captain! my Captain!"

At the time of my acquaintance I could not lay my finger on any more definite example of this than his

Conversations with Walt Whitman: My First Visit MY FIRST VISIT.

S ADAKICHI : "My father is a German, but my mother was a Japanese and I was born in Japan."

ONE of my first visits, after I had returned to Philadelphia from my first European trip, was to the

In my books, in my prose as well as my poetry are many knots to untie."

my captain' with which he generally concluded.

"But my 'Good-Bye' is probably my last bit of writing.

"Some of my friends feel—Dr.

My poems do not discuss special themes and are short. And, anyhow, that is my method.

He enquired what my programme was for the rest of my jaunt.

W. read it, and then said to me: "My best friends are women. They are my best friends.

It is my own spirit, my own feeling—to accept and try and listen, and don't be too quick to reject, and

my fig tree.

I ask myself more than a little if my best friends have not been women. My friend Mrs.

My attempt at "Leaves of Grass"—my attempt at my own expression—is after all this: to thoroughly equip

Eyre .— I want to call attention to "My Captain," a poem which has in it the element of the dramatic

These were my first years with Emerson, and the questions provoked by my confession of this fact would

He lifted my common experience into biblical sanctity, and impelled my whole life to expanding issues

He thoroughly respected my autonomy, never once crossing my transactions with printer or binder.

Can I have won my battle after all?...

If I go there with a magazine under my arm, or a paper in my pocket, he is quite likely to ask me to

of my friends.

, probably my last.

It is called 'Good-bye, My Fancy,' and is now in the press.

with me and encouraged me in my theories.

Give my regards to all my friends, and particularly to the press fellows, for I never forget that I was

I look forward to my visit abroad with great expectation. "My health?

My income is just sufficient to keep my head above water—and what more can a poet ask?

of my life.

Sometimes I think my Western experiences a force behind my life work. "Also the battlefield?

"My idea of a book? A book must have a living vertebra to hold it together. "My religion?

STARTING NEWSPAPERS (ANOTHER ACCOUNT) Reminiscences —( From the "Camden Courier." )—As I sat taking my

As I cross'd leisurely for an hour in the pleasant night-scene, my young friend's words brought up quite

How it made my heart double-beat to see my piece on the pretty white paper, in nice type.

My first real venture was the "Long Islander," in my own beautiful town of Huntington, in 1839.

I enjoy'd my journey and Louisiana life much.

Whitman said: "I am jogging along in the old pathway and my old manner, able to be wheeled about some

days and in rainy weather content to stay shut up in my den, where I have society enough in my books

I see a good many actors, who seem to have a fondness for my society. The death of George H.

"Tennyson still writes to me, as do Buchanan and my German friends.

"John Burroughs is my oldest literary friend now living.

"I would like to go on record as having a feeling of the utmost friendliness to all my fellow poets.

As to my works, I am in a peculiar position.

My works 'Leaves of Grass,' and my prose work, 'Specimen Days,' are printed and on sale, but still I

As I grow older I become the more confirmed in my adherence to my original theories.

Grant, in which are embodied all my original theories.

"My health?

My income is just sufficient to keep my head above water—and what more can a poet ask?

"My opinion of other American poets?

"My religion? I should refuse to be called a materialist.

I recovered what I call my second wind from nature.

As far as my life goes it is written in the past.

For years it was my wish to live long enough to round out my life's story in my little book, 'The Leaves

I continue my work reading or writing to my friends."

as I tried to put it in my books.

It is only the closest student would find it in my works.

My publisher has only sent me $80 as profits on my books for over a year.

But my friends everywhere are remembering me.

It would not be the truth to say that my only friends are in England.

My spirits are buoyant and my health fair: I am indeed content."

I am compelled to admit that my Western experiences are behind all of my life work.

"My eyes are feeling pretty badly, and yesterday and to-day I consulted Dr.

I have lost my poise in walking and cannot promenade at all.

I go out every day in my carriage, and a friend of mine, Willie Duckett, a neighbor's little boy, always

I still retain my hopeful, bouyant spirits. I feel better to-night than I have for several days."

My work is extremely personal—rightly considered so—and on the fly-leaf of each volume I have put my

photograph with my own hand."

I have printed my own works, and am now printing them in two volumes, for sale.

I am living here at my brother's house.

A paralysis of the left side, which chiefly affects my left leg and thigh, hinders me.

almost human tenderness in the atmosphere, to get up and go out, and as I was being wheeled about by my

But I staid just a little too long in my unaccustomed wanderings, because I had not been out before during

It was after sunset when I got back to my home, and I enjoyed my supper better than I had for many a

I can read the magazines, and my friends from abroad keep me advised as to what is going on in the world

Bucke to my left.

My friends do not realize my condition. They persist in imagining that I am like them."

: "Have you noticed my chair?

"My supper is my main meal now.

Speaking of my trip he said that he had felt uneasy in consequence of my late arrival.

I think the dinner my good friends gave me recently, at Morgan's Hall, gave me a new lease of life.

"At least here I am surrounded by my books, and the roses you see my friends send me daily.

Arnold, you are right welcome to my home."

My second wife, you know, was an American lady, and that gives me a claim on your people.

There was no ceremoniousness about my visit to the President, and as a journalist I liked my brief talk

There is a certain idea in my works—to glorify industry, nature and pure intstict.

I always remember that my ancestors were Dutch .

In my books, in my prose as well as my poetry, are many knots to untie.

I don't know why some men compare my book with the Bible.

Mendelssohn is my favorite. I always like to hear him.

I went first of all from Brooklyn to Washington to nurse some of my friends.

Well, I went just like that: I went 'on my own hook.'

"From Long Island I went with my parents and settled at Brooklyn.

For my part, I said, I thought Mr.

Gladstone's policy; and my wish, my desire, my animus, would certainly be on the side of the just, wise

Do you not see, O my brothers and sisters?

During my attendance upon Mr.

'I have had my hour'; I have had my hour ; only let me rest in peace until its close."

In these days and nights it is different; my mutton-broth, my little brandy, to be 'turned' promptly

My only difficulty with Mrs. Davis and Warren was in getting them to let me do my full share.

I always have enough to supply my daily wants, thanks to my kind friends at home and abroad, and am in

My friends in Great Britain are very kind, and have on several occasions recollected me in little acts

"Regarding the insinuation of my being in want of the necessaries of life, I will state that I make it

You can see for yourself my present condition. Yes, I will say I am not in want.

My health is reasonably good.

Forney asked me to accompany him, and I embraced the opportunity of briefly visiting my brother [Water

Kansas celebration, if I feel as well as now, I shall go out to Denver before I return here to pay my

"Oh, yes; I still write, and this winter shall read my own poems in public and also lecture.

"Oh (smiling), that was my 'Leaves of Grass.'

Yes, I like my present life better—rambling about a little.

treated me kindly, and the young people made a great deal of me, but, perhaps, that was on account of my

printing-house, and superintended everything, even the type in which the book was printed, and they made my

"I spent considerable time in New York," he adds, "and a number of weeks on Long Island, my native place

S o many of my good friends are here that I must call it my home."

It has been my effort not to grow querulous in my old age, but to have more faith and gayety of heart

Several of the poems I wrote there if left out of my works would be like losing an eye.

Sometimes I think my Western experiences a force behind my life work.

I think it due to the fact that my work was divided equally among both opposing forces and my poetic

I think I combine that with the spiritualistic inseparately in my books and theories.

one day in Boston that Joaquin Miller, whose acquaintance I had gained through a poetical trifle of my

Whitman— I have tried all my life to write for the masses.

A few days later I called upon Whitman, my pockets stuffed with verses.

At its conclusion he smiled forgivingly and asked me to tell him about my grandfather on my mother's

Such a boy, to my mind, is positively nauseating.

It is that part of my endeavor which has caused the harshest criticism and prevented candid examination

Still I have gone on adding, building up, persevering, so far as I am able to do, in my original intention

"I am not embittered by my lack of success.

My last volume is in response to the interest of my friends abroad."

"I found this in my coat," he said. "I don't often put on this coat.

My names are Song, Love, Art. My poet, now unbar the door."

"Art's dead, Song cannot touch my hear, My once love's name I chant no more."

It puts me in mind of my visit to a church when I was a boy.

It was a Presbyterian church and the preacher was in a high box above my head.

"What's all this about, my boy?"

"Is it a patent of nobility, or is it an address from a lot of my young friends?"

My paralysis has made me so lame lately that I had to give up even my walks for health, let alone my

rambles in the country, and my constitution has suffered for exercise.

TO EASE MY DECLINING YEARS.

Remember me to all my old friends in New York."

My theory has been to equip, equip, equip, from every quarter, my own power, possibility—through science

But my mind is animated by other ideas.

My parents' folks mostly farmers and sailors—on my father's side of English—on my mother (Van Velsor's

—This year lost, by death, my dear, dear mother—and, just before, my sister Martha—(the two best and

Lovering," Poet Whitman said, "wrote to me about five weeks ago, saying that my Boston friends wished

Lovering, of the Committee on Pensions, who was favorable to the project, and asking my consent.

It was whilst assisting at a surgical operation that I became poisoned throughout my system, after which

I became prostrated by hospital malaria, which finally caused my paralysis."

Visits from English friends are perhaps my chief diversion."

Philadelphia, 1883. is going off slowly—not much cared for by my friends—but I like it.

He asked me somewhat about my life and doings at home.

There is something in my nature furtive like an old hen!

Time alone can absolutely test my poems or any one's.

"My words itch at your ears till you understand them," he had said.

My heart was palpitating, my nerves tingling, and every sense was alert as we entered the little house

I paused—my nervousness quite gone—feasting my eyes, warming my heart,—when lo!

I have dismissed whatever insulted my own soul or defiled my body.

"My rendezvous is appointed," I murmured, as I kissed him.

"You want to know in a word, then, the sum total of my life philosophy as I have tried to live it and

as I have tried to put it in my books.

It is only the closest student who would find it in my works.

The sum total of my view of life has always been to humbly accept and thank God for whatever inspiration

Finally he hitched a little closer and leaned forward to look in my face.

But he nodded, and grinned and hitched again, bringing his face close to my ear, then in a voice husky

he finally yelled right in my ear.

The table was set for four, and I, the youngest of the party and the sole representative of my sex, had

for my vis-à-vis the ample figure of the poet clad in light gray linen, his wide rolling shirt collar

I mentioned a name that had more than once come to my mind, as we talked,—Victor Hugo.

My companion assented. I added with enthusiasm, "It has been a perfectly happy day to me, Mr.

My last glimpse of him was in his house at Camden, when he was recovering from a long illness.

But first let me explain part of my head-line.

"But I, for my poems—What have I? I have all to make .

I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you

my respects.

My enemies discover fancy ones.

"Yes," he said, "this is my first visit, properly speaking, to Canada, although I was at Niagara Falls

comradeship—friendship is the good old word—the love of my fellow-men.

As to the form of my poetry, I have rejected the rhymed and blank verse.

everything of the kind from my books."

I said, 'Perhaps not, my dear, in the way you mean, and yet maybe it is the same thing.'"