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  • Published Writings / Leaves of Grass 12

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Search : of captain, my captain!
Work title : A Song Of The Rolling Earth
Sub Section : Published Writings / Leaves of Grass

12 results

Leaves of Grass (1881–1882)

  • Date: 1881–1882
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Leaves of Grass (1891–1892)

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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!

or "To the Leaven'd Soil they Trod," Or "Captain! My Captain!"

Leaves of Grass (1867)

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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!

Leaves of Grass (1856)

  • Date: 1856
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Only three guns were in use, One was directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two

Serene stood the little captain, He was not hurried, his voice was neither high nor low, His eyes gave

riddled and slowly sinking, prepara- tions preparations to pass to the one we had conquered, The captain

Leaves of Grass (1871)

  • Date: 1871
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Serene stands the little captain; He is not hurried—his voice is neither high nor low; His eyes give

The black ship, mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets—but the pluck of the captain and engineers

Leaves of Grass (1860–1861)

  • Date: 1860–1861
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Only three guns were in use, One was directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two

Serene stood the little captain, He was not hurried—his voice was neither high nor low, His eyes gave

Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the sailors

A Song of the Rolling Earth.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Air, soil, water, fire—those are words, I myself am a word with them—my qualities interpenetrate with

theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were told in the three thousand languages, what would air

, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath

A Song of the Rolling Earth.

  • Date: 1881–1882
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Air, soil, water, fire—those are words, I myself am a word with them—my qualities interpenetrate with

theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were told in the three thousand languages, what would air

, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath

To the Sayers of Words

  • Date: 1860–1861
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

shame or the need of shame. 28* Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my

qualities inter- penetrate interpenetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were told

in the three thousand languages, what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath

Poem of the Sayers of the Words of the Earth.

  • Date: 1856
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

without shame or the need of shame Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my

qualities interpenetrate with theirs—my name is noth- ing nothing to them, Though it were told in the

three thousand lan- guages languages , what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I can- not cannot , My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots,

My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man.

Carol of Words.

  • Date: 1871
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

shame or the need of shame. 2 Air, soil, water, fire—these are words; I myself am a word with them—my

qualities interpene- trate interpenetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to them; Though it were told

in the three thousand languages, what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath

To the Sayers of Words

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Air, soil, water, fire—these are words; I myself am a word with them—my qualities inter- penetrate interpenetrate

with theirs—my name is nothing to them; Though it were told in the three thousand languages, what would

air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath

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