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  • Published Writings 12

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Search : of captain, my captain!
Work title : Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
Section : Published Writings

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

Sun-Down Poem.

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

walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.

, That I was, I knew was of my body, and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body.

Manhatta, my river and sun-set, and my scallop-edged waves of flood-tide, the sea-gulls oscillating

face, Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

loudly and mu- sically musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

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

you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me, and more in my

walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.

, That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body.

Manhatta , My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edged waves of flood-tide, The sea-gulls oscillating

loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.

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

walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.

; That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body. 7 It is not

mast- hemm'd mast-hemm'd Manhattan, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide,

face, Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

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

walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.

; That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body.

, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide, The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies

face, Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.

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

than you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my

forever held in solution, I too had receiv'd identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body,

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? We understand then do we not?

loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.

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

than you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my

forever held in solution, I too had receiv'd identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body,

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? We understand then do we not?

loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

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