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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!
whom we knew not before Then the great authors take him for an author And the great soldiers for a captain
O laugh when my eyes settle the land The imagery and phrasing of these lines bears some resemblance to
and dwells serenely behind it.— When out of a feast I eat bread only corn and roast potatoes fo for my
dinner, through my own voluntary choice it is very well and I much content, but if some arrogant head
inspiration . . . . the beating of my heart . . . . the passing of blood and air through my lungs.
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 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
Until you can explain a paving stone, to every ones my perfect satisfaction O Priests , do not try to
. / I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women" (1855, p. 64).;
See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one
See, for instance: "I take my place among you as much as among any," (1855, p. 48); "Nor do I understand
Bibles i are divine revelations of God But I know say that any each leaf of grass and every hair of my
compiled composed is not august enough to dent endow answer tally a leaf of grass the partition of in my
. / I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women" (1855, p. 64).;
. / I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women" (1855, p. 64).
See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one
See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one
as two—as my soul and I; and I gu reckon it is the same with all oth men and women.— I know that my
trousers around my boots, and my cuffs back from my wrists and go among the rough drivers and boatmen
I tell you just as beautiful to die; For I take my death with the dying And my birth with the new-born
lips, to the palms of my hands, and whatever my hands hold.
hands, and my head my head mocked with a prickly I am here after I remember crucifixion and bloody coronation
do not procreate like men; all of them and all existing creeds grows not so much of God as I grow in my
moustache, And I am myself waiting my time to be a God; I think I h shall do as much good and be as
pure and prodigious, and do as much good as any; — And when my do, I am, do you suppose it will please
wriggles through the world mankind and hides under helmets and it is not beloved never loved or believed.— My
See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one
sings as well as I, because although she reads no newspaper; never learned the gamut; And to shake my
The first lines of the notebook poem were revised and published as "My Picture-Gallery" in The American
I cannot tell how my ankles bend . . . . nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the
To walk up my stoop is unaccountable . . . . I pause to consider if it really be.
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
Speech is the twin of my vision . . . . it is unequal to measure itself.
I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about
. * shall uncage in my breast a thousand armed great winged broad‑ wide‑winged strengths and unknown
I want that untied tenor, clean and fresh as the Creation, whose vast pure volume floods my soul.
paces and powers, uncage in my heart a thousand new strengths, and unknown ardors and terrible —making
furious than hail hail and lightning. that leap lulling me drowsily with honeyed uncaging waking in my
likely relates to the following lines, from the poem that would be titled "Song of Myself": "I open my
My Soul Spirit was curious and sped back to the beginning, sped back returned to the times when the earth
eternally; And devise themselves to this spot place These States and this hour, Again But yet still my
My Spirit sped back to
of the poem (not including this line) were revised and published in The American in October 1880 as My
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron or my ankles with iron?
do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
"The chief end I purpose to myself in all my labours," wrote Dean Swift, "is to vex the world rather
and flows": "This day, before dawn, I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my
And my spirit said ' No .'"
suddenly,—reservedly, with a beautiful paucity of communication, even silently, such was its effect on my
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
As every one is immortal, I know it is wonderful; but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and how I was
conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.
My Spirit sped back to
Open your mouth gums my pardy, that I put send blow grit in you with one a breath ; Spread your palms
I beat and pound for the dead; I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.
white locks at the runaway sun; I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags."
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life."
"Between my knees my forehead was,— My lips, drawn in, said not, Alas!
My hair was over in the grass, My naked ears heard the day pass."
Can my your sight behold them as with oysters eyes?
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!
first several lines of that poem (not including the line in question) were revised and published as My
"In the year 80 of the States, My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air, Born
"Take my leaves, America! take them South, and take them North! Surround them, East and West!
"O my comrade! O you and me at last, and us two only! O to level occupations and the sexes!
If he worships any particular thing, he says it shall be "some of the spread of my own body."
One long passage commences thus: "O my body!
first poem of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass , later called "Song of Myself": "I do not trouble my
The first several lines of the notebook (not including this line) were revised and published as "My Picture-Gallery
just granting his request, with great commiseration, when an old lady from the gallery cries out "O my
to the President at his levee, / And he says Good day my brother, to Cudge that hoes in the sugarfield
of the poem (not including this line) were revised and published in The American in October 1880 as "My
with me about God; I can yet just begin to comprehend nothing more wonderful than so tremendous as my