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[Oh captain! My captain!] O Captain! My Captain! Allá á lo lejos... [Far off...]
, turning sweetly towards me, You half-opened my shirt, plunging your tongue inside my chest unto my
dog and my gun by my side.
We came alongside at once, the ships' yards entangled, the cannons touched, My captain took part in the
I let forth a laugh as I hear the voice of my captain answer loudly: No! We do not lower it!
Antonio Troiano, O capitano mio capitano (Crocetti 1990), betrays the influence had on this volume ("O Captain
My Captain!"
my Captain!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 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
President Lincoln's Funeral Hymn O Captain! My Captain! (for the Death of Lincoln) Pioneers!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! (F OR THE EATH OF INCOLN 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. 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
.; ∗ The reader will share my wish that Whitman had written sanctus spiritus, which is right, instead
The recherché or ethereal sense of the term, as used in my book, arises probably from the actual Calamus
Most of my friends were English.
It was the method my mother had followed, when I was four or five, to facilitate my reading Spanish,
since my mother tongue, that of my parents' home, was French, until I was older than fifteen.
Haunts my heart."
"I, my soul, and my body go together, a singular threesome."
so, Poet-Prophet Beside your song, Rising to join it, a new chant: —the chant of the anxious soul of my
He had not heard Whitman's advice in "Song of Myself" that "he most honors my style who learns under
In Lincoln Whitman incarnated his concept of the "redeemer" of the Americans, of the "captain," of the
Within a short time, my Cincinnati accent in English and my relatively (for an American) voluble Russian
But what he opened up for my eyes and my heart was the genuine Russia that lay behind, and sometimes
voice approach Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.
with your hand,/Don't be afraid of my body").
("Don't be afraid, it is not fearful/my body!").
Where Whitman had written "my Mississippi" or "prairies in Illinois" or "my prairies on the Missouri,
All my free time was devoted to memorizing the self-tutor as if this were my sole salvation.
I had broken completely with my family.
I opened at random and read: My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras
, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision . . .
For today, my work is done. It is growing dusky.
, Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring, Or withdrawn to muse
"My lovers suffocate me . . . thick in the pores of my skin."
I sit, my gaze directed to my world map. I sing the ocean, the mother of the earth.
This is what my taste tastes. . . .
recreated: Me and mine, loose windrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See, from my
For I, that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping, now Ĭ hăve heard you, Nów ĭn ă mómŏnt Ĭ know what
their eyes, and has added the image embodied in the title of the poem that precedes it in , "Earth, My
In "Earth, My Likeness" Whitman says that within himself, as within the seemingly impassive terrestrial
Symonds had already cited "Earth, My-Likeness" in his own critical study, noting the "spiritual conflict
I am grateful to my friend, Tony Brown, UCNW, Bangor, for drawing Forster's article to my attention.
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Whitman's mind to be more like my own than any other man's living.
For my own part, I may confess that it shone upon me when my life was broken, when I was weak, sickly
For this reason, in duty to my master Whitman, and in the hope that my experience may encourage others
In 1954 my own L'Evolution de Walt Whitman après la première édition des "Feuilles d'herbe" offered to
(It has been hailed with enthusiasm by reviewers, though is is less faithful to the text than my own.
I have lost my wits . . . I and nobody else am the greatest traitor . . .
You villain touch, what are you doing . . . my breath is tight in its throat; Unclench your floodgates
My soul! . . . My ties and ballasts leave me . . . I travel, I sail.
exist") wofür ich da bin ("what I am there for") die Frage nach meiner Bestimmung ("the question of my
destiny") wer ich sei ("who I am/may be") was ich tauge ("what I am good for" | "what my worth is")
I know it is attainable because I experienced brief moments when it almost created itself under my pen
Other Polish responses to Whitman's "Poets to Come" besides translations In my research into Polish readings
["When you are standing in my way . . ." ], "Ona prishla s moroza raskrasnevshayasya . . ."
As he once told Edward Carpenter: "There is something in my nature furtive like an old hen!
Endlich 1891, im Winter vor seinem Todesjahr, das gleichfalls gemischte Bändchen „Good-bye my Fancy“
die Prosaschriften in dieser Reihenfolge: „Specimen Days“, „Collect“, „November Boughs“ und „Good-bye my
Siebzigjährigen“). 1891, im Dezember, im Winter vor seinem Todesjahr, erschien als Sonderdruck „Good-bye my