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| Entering in only one field | Searches |
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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!
For that we live, my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.
Have you studied out my land, its idioms and men?
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
rapt song, my charm—mock me not!
You, by my charm, I invoke!
I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the causes of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship
That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be.
A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the meta- physics metaphysics of books."
I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest music to them. Vivas to those who have failed.
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass.