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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
of the lines only to reintroduce them in Sands at Seventy (1888), under the title Small the Theme of My
Both One's-self I Sing and Small the Theme of My Chant appeared in the 1892 edition of Leaves of Grass
of the lines only to reintroduce them in Sands at Seventy (1888), under the title Small the Theme of My
Both One's-self I Sing and Small the Theme of My Chant appeared in the 1891-92 edition of Leaves of Grass
included are: As the Time Draws Nigh, Ashes of Soldiers, Years of the Modern, Thoughts, Song at Sunset, My
Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully
MY LEGACY.
, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my
I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference
I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure
Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully
MY LEGACY.
, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my
I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference
I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure
I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference
I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the body and the soul, war and peace have I sung,
I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure
My songs cease, I abandon them, From behind the screen where I hid I advance personally solely to you
Remember my words, I may again return, I love you, I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied,
I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference
I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the body and the soul, war and peace have I sung,
I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure
My songs cease, I abandon them, From behind the screen where I hid I advance personally solely to you
Remember my words, I may again return, I love you, I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied,
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference
I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the Body and the Soul—War and Peace have I sung,
And the songs of Life and of Birth—and shown that there are many births: I have offer'd my style to every
one—I have journey'd with confident step; While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, So long!
4 My songs cease—I abandon them; From behind the screen where I hid, I advance person- ally personally
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with re-
con- tribute contribute to them, When breeds of the most perfect mothers denote America, Then to me my
I have press'd through in my own right, I have offer'd my style to every one—I have journey'd with confident
step, While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, So long!
Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.
I remember I said to myself at the winter-close, before my leaves sprang at all, that I would become
a candid and unloosed summer-poet, I said I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to
what was promised, When each part is peopled with free people, When there is no city on earth to lead my
I have pressed through in my own right, I have offered my style to every one—I have jour- neyed journeyed
Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.
States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- color'd rose-color'd flesh; To be conscious of my body
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference
His text is—and it is a stalwart text: "I stand in my place, with my own day, here!" II.
"I resist anything better than my own diversity," he says.
Clifford in his essay on "Cosmic Emotion:" "I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled far-
"My sun has his sun, and round him obediently wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior
Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that Show of blacken'd mutilated corpses!
Me, master, years a hundred since from my parents sundered.