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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!
We closed with him . . . . the yards entangled . . . . the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with
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 mainmast, Two
Serene stood the little captain, He was not hurried . . . . his voice was neither high nor low, His eyes
Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain . . . . and
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
for I am you seem to me all one lurid Curse oath curse; I look down off the river with my bloodshot eyes
, after 10 I see the steamboat that carries away my woman.— Damn him!
how he does defile me This day, or some other, I will have him and the like of him to curse the do my
I will stop the drag them out—the sweet marches of heaven shall be stopped my maledictions.— Whitman
how he does defile me, / How he informs against my brother and sister and takes pay for their blood,
/ How he laughs when I look down the bend after the steamboat that carries away my woman" (1855, p. 74
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
and the breast that ha fed his young , and so buys a nomination to great office; i I nforme d against my
brother and sister and got t ook aking pay for their blood, hearts; l L aughed when I looked from my
iron necklace, after the steamboat that carried away my woman.— Whitman probably drafted this manuscript
how he does defile me, / How he informs against my brother and sister and takes pay for their blood,
/ How he laughs when I look down the bend after the steamboat that carries away my woman" (1855, p. 74
11 He The sores on my neck shoulders are from his iron necklace I look on the off on the river with my
bloodshot eyes He stops the steamboat and till she will paddle off with away take my woman, and paddle
The sores on my shoulders
titled "The Sleepers": "How he laughs when I look down the bend after the steamboat that carries away my
—I lend you my own mouth tongue A black I dart ed like a snake from his mouth.— I My eyes are bloodshot
, they look down the river, A steamboat carries off paddles away my woman and children.— Around my neck
am T The His i ron necklace and the red sores of my shoulders I do not feel mind , h H opples and ball
ankles and tight cuffs at the wrists does must not detain me will go down the river, with the sight of my
bloodshot eyes, go in to the steamboat that paddles off wife woman and child A I do not stop with my
. / How he laughs when I look down the bend after the steamboat that carries away my woman"(1855, p.
The retrospective extasy ecstasy is upon me— I am now my soul —spirit burns volcanic The earth recedes
ashamed before my prophetical crisis.— Whitman probably drafted this manuscript in the early 1850s as
similar to the following line in the poem eventually titled "Song of Myself": "The dirt receding before my
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
Leaves of Grass, "I Wander All Night in My Vision," Leaves of Grass.
My hands are spread forth . .
I descend my western course . . . . my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I
darn my grandson's stockings.
though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death.
/ Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sun-light expands my blood?
/ Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
blood—that if I walk with an arm of theirs around my neck, my soul leaps and laughs like a new-waked
—(Am I loved by them boundlessly because my love for them is more boundless?
truth, my sympathy, and my dignity.
Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.
my clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their
carefully darn my grandson's stockings.
How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.
Darkness, you are gentler than my lover!
I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their
carefully darn my grand-son's stockings.
How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.
me, and takes the place of my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed.
my clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
carefully darn my grandson's stockings.
How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
Sleep-Chasings SLEEP-CHASINGS. 1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and
Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.
my clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
carefully darn my grandson's stockings.
How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
THE SLEEPERS. 1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping
I stand in the dark with drooping eyes by the worst-suffering and the most restless, I pass my hands
He whom I call answers me and takes the place of my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed.
. 2 I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me and I am
darn my grandson's stockings.
THE SLEEPERS. 1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping
I stand in the dark with drooping eyes by the worst-suffering and the most restless, I pass my hands
He whom I call answers me and takes the place of my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed.
. 2 I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me and I am
darn my grandson's stockings.
.— I celebrate myself to celebrate you; every man and woman alive; I transpose my my spirit I pass as
that hear me; I am loosen the voice tongue that was tied in you them In me It begins to talk out of my
though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death" (1855, p. 74).
188uva.00260xxx.00264The sores on my shouldersBetween 1850 and 1855poetryhandwritten1 leaf8 x 15 cm;
on the back of this leaf (uva.00565) relate to the manuscript poem Pictures.; uva.00565 The sores on my
forced to remember another son of the people, Robert Burns, and one involuntarily thinks of his "O, my
Love's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Love's like a melodie That's sweetly
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was unreturned, Yet out of my love have I written these
hardly patience with a man who could offer the public lines like these, and call them poetry: "I tucked my
trowser-ends into my boots, and went and had a good time."
though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death" (1855, p. 74).
man who claims or takes the power to own another man as his property, stabs me in that the heart of my
own The one scratches me a little on the cheek forehead , the other draws his murderous razor through my
t T hat black and huge lethargic mass, my sportsmen, dull and sleepy as it seems, has holds the lightning
eventually titled "Song of Myself": "Buying drafts of Osiris and Isis and Belus and Brahma and Adonai, / In my