Simply enter the word you wish to find and the search engine will search for every instance of the word in the journals. For example: Fight. All instances of the use of the word fight will show up on the results page.
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Because of the creative spellings used by the journalists, it may be necessary to try your search multiple times. For example: P?ro*. This search brings up numerous variant spellings of the French word pirogue, "a large dugout canoe or open boat." Searching for P?*r*og?* will bring up other variant spellings. Searching for canoe or boat also may be helpful.
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O Captain! My Captain! 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!
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! 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!
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! O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 1 O CAPTAIN! my captain!
Leave you not the little spot, Where on the deck my captain lies.
Fallen cold and dead. 2 O captain! my captain!
This arm I push beneath you; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. 3 My captain
But I, with silent tread, Walk the spot my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
or "To the Leaven'd Soil they Trod," Or "Captain! My Captain!"
thy Equal Brood," and many, many more unspecified, From fibre heart of mine—from throat and tongue—(My
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!
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! 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!
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.
Of sea-captains young or old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors, Of the few, very choice, taciturn
rest, A spiritual woven signal for all nations, emblem of man elate above death, Token of all brave captains
and mates, And all that went down doing their duty, Reminiscent of them, twined from all intrepid captains
Of sea-captains young or old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors, Of the few, very choice, taciturn
rest, A spiritual woven signal for all nations, emblem of man elate above death, Token of all brave captains
and mates, And all that went down doing their duty, Reminiscent of them, twined from all intrepid captains
the midday sun, the impalpable air—for life, mere life, For precious ever-lingering memories, (of you my
mother dear —you, father—you, brothers, sisters, friends,) For all my days—not those of peace alone—the
war's chosen ones, The cannoneers of song and thought—the great artillerists—the foremost leaders, captains
PASSAGE TO INDIA. 1 SINGING my days, Singing the great achievements of the present, Singing the strong
Struggles of many a captain, tales of many a sailor dead, Over my mood stealing and spreading they come
of you strong mountains of my land! Of you O prairies! of you gray rocks! O morning red! O clouds!
the blood burns in my veins! Away O soul! hoist instantly the anchor!
O my brave soul! O farther farther sail! O daring joy, but safe! are they not all the seas of God?
PASSAGE TO INDIA. 1 SINGING my days, Singing the great achievements of the present, Singing the strong
Struggles of many a captain, tales of many a sailor dead, Over my mood stealing and spreading they come
of you strong mountains of my land! Of you O prairies! of you gray rocks! O morning red! O clouds!
the blood burns in my veins! Away O soul! hoist instantly the anchor!
O my brave soul! O farther farther sail! O daring joy, but safe! are they not all the seas of God?
And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand, and his left
hand in my right hand, And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I answered for THE POET, and
to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!
Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the sailors
And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand, and his left
hand in my right hand, And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I answered for the poet, and
to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!
Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the sailors
And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand and his left hand
in my right hand, And I answered for his brother and for men . . . . and I answered for the poet, and
to the President at his levee, And he says Good day my brother, to Cudge that hoes in the sugarfield;
Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain . . . . and
do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
Loud I call to you, my love!
who I am, my love.
Hither my love! Here I am! here!
But my mate no more, no more with me! We two together no more.
do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
Loud I call to you, my love!
who I am, my love.
Hither my love! Here I am! here!
But my mate no more, no more with me! We two together no more.
to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach; With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds, and volumes
My ties and ballasts leave me—I travel—I sail—my elbows rest in the sea-gaps; I skirt the sierras—my
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,(says my grandmother's father;) We have
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets
and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted my shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my
My ties and ballasts leave me—I travel—I sail—my elbows rest in the sea-gaps; I skirt the sierras—my
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast
, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs
my bare-stript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.
my Soul!
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon 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
my soul!
my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision.
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the can- non cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household, intimates, Now the performer launches
my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes and holding me by the bare waist, Deluding my confusion
My Soul!
We closed with him . . . . the yards entangled . . . . the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, and my women and household and intimates, Now the performer
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
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!
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my 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
or "To the Leaven'd Soil they Trod," Or "Captain! My Captain!"
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,(says my grandmother's father;) We have
my Captain!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 1 O CAPTAIN! my captain!
Leave you not the little spot, Where on the deck my captain lies.
Fallen cold and dead. 2 O captain! my captain!
people and The States face to face, to confront them with an American rude tongue; but the work of my
A few years, and the average annual call for my Poems is ten or twenty thousand copies—more, quite likely
It is all as well done, in my opinion, as could be practicable. Each element here is in condition.
out the lines, build cities, work mines, break up farms; it is yours to have been the original true Captain
my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes and holding me by the bare waist, Deluding my confusion
My Soul!
We closed with him . . . . the yards entangled . . . . the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, and my women and household and intimates, Now the performer
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me
and which are my miracles?
friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those
WHO learns my lesson complete?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
my soul!
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the can- non cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
O my body!
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast
MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.
my Soul!
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon 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
O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
To My Soul TO MY SOUL.
The States—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
Then all may arrive to but this; The glances of my eyes, that swept the daylight, The unspeakable love
I interchanged with women, My joys in the open air—my walks through the Man- nahatta Manahatta , The
of my mouth, rude, ignorant, arrogant— my many faults and derelictions, 38* The light touches, on my
Thou knowest my years entire, my life, My long and crowded life of active work, not adoration merely;
Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth, Thou knowest my manhood's solemn and visionary meditations
All my emprises have been fill'd with Thee, My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts
, I yield my ships to Thee.
My hands, my limbs grow nerveless, My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd, Let the old timbers part, I will
Thou knowest my years entire, my life, My long and crowded life of active work, not adoration merely;
Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth, Thou knowest my manhood's solemn and visionary meditations
All my emprises have been fill'd with Thee, My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts
, I yield my ships to Thee.
My hands, my limbs grow nerveless, My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd, Let the old timbers part, I will
Covering all my lands—all my seashores lining! Flag of death!
Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!
My sacred one, my mother.
Covering all my lands—all my seashores lining! Flag of death!
Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!
My sacred one, my mother.
Covering all my lands! all my sea-shores lining! Flag of death!
Ah my silvery beauty! ah my woolly white and crim- son crimson !
Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty! My sacred one, my mother.
My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long
stretch of my life.
is my mind!
O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my
O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!
My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long
stretch of my life.
is my mind!
O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my
O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day
battle, the even-contested battle, Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my
long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my
chin in my hands, Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade—not a tear
, not a word, Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day
battle, the even-contested battle, Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my
long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my
chin in my hands, Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade—not a tear
, not a word, Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day
battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my
long-drawn sigh—Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my
chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade—Not a tear
, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death—vigil for you, my son and my soldier, As onward silently
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night, When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day
battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my
long-drawn sigh—Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my
chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade—Not a tear
, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death—vigil for you, my son and my soldier, As onward silently
Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.
NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only, Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself, Not in
those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful and savage
soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my temples
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these songs.
Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.
NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only, Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself, Not in
those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful and savage
soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my temples
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these songs.
Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.
NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not
in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs; Not in many an oath and promise broken; Not in my wilful and
savage soul's volition; Not in the subtle nourishment of the air; Not in this beating and pounding at my
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only Not Heaving from my Ribb'd Breast only.
NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not
in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs; Not in many an oath and promise broken; Not in my wilful and
savage soul's volition; Not in the subtle nourishment of the air; Not in this beating and pounding at my
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
earth, she cried, I charge you lose not my sons, lose not an atom, And you streams absorb them well,
, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable, And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my
, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my
darlings, give my immortal heroes, Exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not
O my dead, an aroma sweet! Exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence.
earth, she cried, I charge you lose not my sons, lose not an atom, And you streams absorb them well,
, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable, And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my
, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my
darlings, give my immortal heroes, Exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not
O my dead, an aroma sweet! Exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence.