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Grier notes that a portion of this notebook (beginning "How spied the captain and sailors") describes
/ My children and grand-children, my white hair and beard, / My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of
the long stretch of my life" (145).
received pay.— from the lips and fingers hands of the vict captors victors.— How fared The young captain
the greatness and beau large hearts of heroes, All the courage of olden time and How spied the the captain
Grier notes that a portion of this notebook (beginning "How spied the captain and sailors") describes
Grier notes that a portion of this notebook (beginning "How spied the captain and sailors") describes
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!
Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the sailors
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me
and which are my miracles?
WHO learns my lesson complete?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
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
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
and which are my miracles?
Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your feet can
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight
any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my
perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my
REALISM is mine, my miracles, Take all of the rest—take freely—I keep but my own—I give only of them,
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight
any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my
perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my
and which are my miracles?
Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your feet can
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight
any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my
perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.
COURAGE yet, my brother or my sister!
Me ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
WHO LEARNS MY LESSON COMPLETE? WHO learns my lesson complete?
MY PICTURE-GALLERY.
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.
COURAGE yet, my brother or my sister!
Me ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
WHO LEARNS MY LESSON COMPLETE? WHO learns my lesson complete?
MY PICTURE-GALLERY.
O my body, that gives me identity! O my organs !
Underfoot, the divine soil— Overhead, the sun.— Afford foothold to my poems, you Nourish my poems, Earth
In Poem The earth, that is my model of poems model ?
The body of a man, is my model—I do not reject what I find in my body—I am not ashamed—Why should I be
My Darling (Now I am maternal— a child bearer— bea have from my womb borne a child, and observe it For
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight
Such boundless and affluent souls. . . . . . . bend your head in reverence, my man!
Who would suspect that this comic strain proceeded from the author of "My Study Window," and "Among my
I'm dull at prayers: I could not keep awake Counting my beads.
I love my fellow-men: the worst I know I would do good to.
Now, when storms of fate o'ercast Darkly my Present and my Past, Let my Future radiant shine With sweet
The "In Memoriam" explains itself,—the "Watchman of Ephriam," as Osee says, "was with my God."