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27O Captain! My Captain! (1865).

.00218My Captainabout 1865poetryhandwritten3 leaves; Draft of the poem that would be published as O Captain

My Captain! in 1865, titled here My Captain.

My Captain

And I stood before the young man face to face, and took his right hand in my left hand, and his left

hand in my right hand, And I answered for his brother, and for men, and I answered for THE POET, and

to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!

Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain, and the sailors

by the indolent waves, I am exposed, cut by bitter and poisoned hail Steeped amid honeyed morphine , my

darkness Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking—preparations to pass to the one we had conquered— The captain

, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs

my bare-stript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.

my Soul!

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

O laugh when my eyes settle the land The imagery and phrasing of these lines bears some resemblance to

similarity to the following line in the poem eventually titled "I Sing the Body Electric": "As I see my

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.

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?

friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those

WHO learns my lesson complete?

Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?

first several lines of "Pictures" (not including these lines) were eventually revised and published as "My

first several lines of "Pictures" (not including these lines) were eventually revised and published as "My

The first several lines of "Pictures" (not including this line) were revised and published as "My Picture-Gallery

This poem later appeared as "Calamus No. 40," Leaves of Grass (1860); as "That Shadow My Likeness," Leaves

Hear my fife!—I am a recruiter Who Come, who will join my troop?

first several lines of "Pictures" (not including this line) were eventually revised and published as "My

Hear my fife

first several lines of "Pictures" (not including this line) were eventually revised and published as "My

of the poem (not including this line) were revised and published in The American in October 1880 as "My

my Soul!

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

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

my brother or my sister! Keep on!

.; TThis manuscript bears some similarity in subject to the poem that became "Who Learns My Lesson Complete

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 1892 edition of Leaves of Grass

verses in this notebook were published posthumously as [I Stand and Look], Ship of Libertad, and Of My

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

See, for instance: "I take my place among you as much as among any," (1855, p. 48); "Nor do I understand

—I reached out my hand to feel the life-blood thrill beneath my fingers—I was faint with transport.

arms above my head to catch the stray sunbeams;—hugged it to my bosom transported with extatic emotion

;—yet never came before my vision sensual forms or thought found place in my imagination;—Was I passionless

—the warm, sympathetic tears that crept from beneath my eyelids and rolled lovingly down my bosom, soothing

my beating heart?

To My Soul TO MY SOUL.

The States—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my

Then all may arrive to but this; The glances of my eyes, that swept the daylight, The unspeakable love

I interchanged with women, My joys in the open air—my walks through the Man- nahatta Manahatta , The

of my mouth, rude, ignorant, arrogant— my many faults and derelictions, 38* The light touches, on my

My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long

stretch of my life.

is my mind!

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!

I do not know what I carry in my arms pressed close to my side and bosom!

I turn my steps to "Zion's Mill" a cemetery.

My womb is clean and pure. It is ready for thy child my love.

how lovingly will I cherish and guard it, our child my love. Thine the pleasure my love.

My motives are pure and holy. Our boy my love! Do you not already love him?

NOT heaving from my ribbed breast only, Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself, Not

in those long-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful

savage soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my

sleep, Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day, Nor in the limbs and senses of my

O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.

last yawp, which (the review) you were frank enough to print in your last issue, emboldens me to speak my

Last Winter I got on skates, my first appearance before an icy audience for fifteen years.

U. is the poet of my concern, her suggestion to that effect was a strong point in favor of Mr.

s fondness for poetry doesn't at all interfere with the clearness of my café noir, the lightness of my

with my lordly prerogative.

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been received with plaudits in the capitol, still

it was not a happy night for me that fol- lowed followed ; And else, when I caroused, or when my plans

ing undressing , bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, And when I thought how my

all that day my food nourished me more—And the beautiful day passed well, And the next came with equal

joy—And with the next, at evening, came my friend; And that night, while all was still, I heard the

Loud I call to you my love!

am, my love.

Hither, my love! Here I am! Here!

O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos!

steadily up to my ears, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

Calamus 18. p 363 City of my walks and joys!

little you h You city : what do y you repay me for my daily walks joys Not these your crowded rows of

delicious athletic love fresh as nature's air and herbage— —offering me full repa respon ds se equal of my

my own, These repay me—Lovers, continual Lovers continu only repay me.— This manuscript is a draft of

City of my walks and joys

O blossoms of my blood!

face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press

CITY of my walks and joys!

my likeness!

, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my

HERE my last words, and the most baffling, Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- lasting

, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my

distinctly I comprehend no better sphere than this earth, I comprehend no better life than the life of my

I do not know what follows the death of my body, But I know well that whatever it is, it is best for

I am not uneasy but I shall have good housing to myself, But this is my first—how can I like the rest

face the same, But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always near and always divine to me,

— and that the experience of this earth will prove only one out of myriads; But I believe my body and

Friend Walter— I design bearly to say How do you do, while you are in Boston, & to express my own pleasure

I know what is your mental fare in Boston from my own past personal experience and without wishing to

intrude myself above my true level I could wish I were, at least, a stander-by.

How shall I rise to life (action), is, now, my all pressing & all urgent question.

Accept my affectionate regards. O. K. Sammis To Walt Whitman. O. K.

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!

My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!

O dear to me my birth-things—All moving things, and the trees where I was born—the grains, plants, rivers

; Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands, or through

the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa, and the Sabine; O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my

the graceful palmetto; I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my

home in Kanuck woods, Or wandering and hunting, my drink water, my diet meat, Or withdrawn to muse and

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!

My comrade!

steamers steaming through my poems!

SPLENDOR of falling day, floating and filling me, Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past, Inflating 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- colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous

How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!

sailed down the Mississippi, As I wandered over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have looked through my

My dear Walt, The books are duly delivered.

Meanwhile I am up to my eyes—and over my eyes even to blindness—in the slough of a fearful road to that

plainer English I am fighting like a thousand Humans to establish the Saturday Press, and have for my

My brother George will deliver this. He is of the right stamp. In haste Henry Clapp.

Dear Brother, I have just finished a letter to mother, and while my hand is in, I will write you a line

I enclose in my letter to Mother, a note from Hyde —nothing at all in it, except that Han is well, and

, it seems to me, like relieving me of a great weight—or removing a great obstacle that has been in my

go-ahead fellows, and don't seem to have the least doubt they are bound to make a good spec. out of my

I am very well, and hold my own about as usual.

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.

EARLY in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refreshed with sleep, Behold me where I pass—hear my

voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.

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!

Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!

dancers, and drink with the drink- ers drinkers , The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I take for my

love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he

one condemned by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my

hitherto published—from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed to my

Soul Clear to me now, standards not yet published— clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, 29* Afternoon, this delicious Ninth Month, in my

forty- first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men, To tell the secret of my nights

THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seek- ing seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering

it where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But in these, and among my

lovers, and carolling my songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.

What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)

(I bequeath them to you, my children, I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)

(Know, I am a man, attracting, at any time, her I but look upon, or touch with the tips of my fingers

, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)

To rise thither with my inebriate Soul! To be lost, if it must be so!

PRIMEVAL my love for the woman I love, O bride ! O wife !

Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born, The ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation

, I ascend—I float in the regions of your love, O man, O sharer of my roving life.

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

Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south, dropped, to follow those slender winrows, Chaff, straw

Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my

I take what is underfoot; What is yours is mine, my father.

I throw myself upon your breast, my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you

from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last! See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling!)

the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip the clothes from my

body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me

I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my plough—I

will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up un- derneath underneath , I am sure I shall expose

transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious, here behold my

wide sweep, having brought me again, Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all won- drous wondrous , My

wondrous; Existing, I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present—content with the past, By my

aught of them;) May-be they only seem to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my

from entirely changed points of view; To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously answered by my

lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the

appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave, But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my

CITY of my walks and joys!

nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them, Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my

your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering me the response of my own—these

O MY children! O mates!

O my body!

, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)

songs in sex, Offspring of my loins. 13.

voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.