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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.
| Entering in only one field | Searches |
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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!
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!"
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!
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
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
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
O blossoms of my blood!
WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
That Shadow, my Likeness.
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
O blossoms of my blood!
EARTH, MY LIKENESS.
WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
O blossoms of my blood!
EARTH, MY LIKENESS.
WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
O blossoms of my blood!
WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
THAT SHADOW, MY LIKENESS.
Calamus 18. p 363 City of my walks and joys!
little you h You city : what do y you repay me for my daily walks joys Not these your crowded rows of
delicious athletic love fresh as nature's air and herbage— —offering me full repa respon ds se equal of my
my own, These repay me—Lovers, continual Lovers continu only repay me.— This manuscript is a draft of
City of my walks and joys
O blossoms of my blood!
face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press
CITY of my walks and joys!
my likeness!
, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my
CITY of my walks and joys!
nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them, Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my
your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering me the response of my own—these
50-51uva.00023xxx.00085City of my walks and joyslate 1850spoetryhandwritten1 leaf8.5 x 10 cm pasted to
City of my walks and joys
the streets, nor the bright windows with goods in them, Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my
as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my
the streets, nor the bright windows with goods in them, Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my
as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my
nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them; Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my
your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my own—these repay me; Lovers
nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them; Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my
your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my own—these