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.; Reprinted in Good-bye My Fancy (1891).
the breath is leaving my throat; ! Open your floodgates!
I am faintish I can contain resist you no longer think I shall drop sink , Take drops the tears of my
¶Little as your mouth yo lips are am faintish I am faintish; and it has drained me dry of my strength
. . . . my breath is tight in its throat; / Unclench your floodgates!
Open your mouth gums my pardy, that I put send blow grit in you with one a breath ; Spread your palms
In the penultimate line, he defends them strongly: "Yet my soul-dearest leaves confirming all the rest
August now;) You pallid banner-staves—you pennants valueless—you over- stay'd overstay'd of time, Yet my
. * 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
Me ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
Me ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
the first page correspond to verses 1-3 of the 1860 version, and those on the second page ("Publish my
name and hang up/ my picture...") to lines 4-11.
experts in native languages had contested his definition of "Yonnondio," but he stood firm: "I am sure of my
YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also, Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles, Earth
Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain
, The sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding, tell me my destination
YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also, Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles, Earth
Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain
, The sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding, tell me my destination
the air I breathed froze me, A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me, Must I change my
the air I breathed froze me, A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me, Must I change my
the air I breathed froze me; A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me; Must I change my
said I to my- self myself ; Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baf- fled baffled ?
the air I breathed froze me; A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me; Must I change my
indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) I would sing in my
know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my
love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my
bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her moving swiftly
indifferent, but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds you mounted the scaffold;) I would sing in my
, and singled you out with attachment;) Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my
bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her moving swiftly
indifferent, but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds you mounted the scaffold;) I would sing in my
, and singled you out with attachment;) Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my
bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her moving swiftly
indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) —I would sing in my
know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my
love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my
bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her, moving swiftly
[S]he possessed herself of my body and soul" (Traubel 500).
Whitman writes about this in the passage Paumanok, and My Life on It as a Child and a Young Man, published
milieu.For thirty-four lines thereafter the persona becomes the ambulatory wound-dresser, moving among "my
bandages, water, and sponge" (section 2), he attends each soldier "with impassive hand, (yet deep in my
that love me, (Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war, But soon my
fingers fail'd me, my face droop'd and I resign'd myself, To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or
2 O maidens and young men I love and that love me, What you ask of my days those the strangest and sudden
Bearing the bandages, water and sponge, Straight and swift to my wounded I go, Where they lie on the
thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen, These and more I dress with impassive hand, (yet deep in my
that love me, (Arous'd and angry, I'd thought to beat the alarum, and urge relentless war, But soon my
fingers fail'd me, my face droop'd and I resign'd myself, To sit by the wounded and soothe them, or
2 O maidens and young men I love and that love me, What you ask of my days those the strangest and sudden
Bearing the bandages, water and sponge, Straight and swift to my wounded I go, Where they lie on the
thigh, the knee, the wound in the abdomen, These and more I dress with impassive hand, (yet deep in my
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.
Loud I call to you, my love!
who I am, my love.
Hither, my love! Here I am! Here!
But my love no more, no more with me!
O what is my destination?
—"Step-along, my bullies!" Come, bullies, hop, now! hop now!" (9 Mixture of passengers .
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.
She has generously acceded to my request.
There is nothing in him that I shall ever let go my hold of.
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood.
"O the life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh!"
"What I am, I am of my body; and what I shall be, I shall be of my body."
It is I, you women, I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love you, I do not
babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my
It is I, you women, I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love you, I do not
babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my
It is I, you women—I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable—but I love you, I do not hurt
babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my
greater heroes and bards, They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me: It is I, you women—I make my
babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my
Ferry, I dashed off the enclosed Sonnet, which I take the liberty of send to you, the rather to gratify my
I can never answer my own question—never make up my mind.
I almost think if I had to ask fulfillment, the rock, now my saviour, my peace, would be my wreck, my
him he is often in my thoughts as I sit here in my den."
My purse and my heart are yours!" or to that effect.
Long have I kept my road—made my road: long, long!
It will be my last volume—my finale—without a doubt.
My head, my belly, my bladder—all are out of gear, and for what end?"
My dear Mr.
The failure to rhyme, I mean, for the poem itself—"O Captain! my Captain!"
Some words, all of us, with Captain Noell, who said, "This is possibly my last trip."
My friendships are my own—for Ingersoll or another.
" (from the Independent) and his comment upon W. was this:In some cases, as in Whitman's O Captain, My
"I am all of a jumble today—my stomach, my head."
It is loyal, generous, correct, and true, and doesn't labor to prove that "My Captain" is the best of
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, "We have not struck," he composedly cries
But neither do some of my friends understand my love for the prairies—my statement, insistence, that
It taught me my own definiteness of address—what my friends call my superfluity.
address—read on that 'My Captain.'
, my Captain," which he will also read, is a pathetic tribute to the same noble name.
A curious letter (dated 3/12/90) starting off—"Dear Walt, my beloved master, my friend, my bard, my prophet
Said as to my inquiries: "I am bad again, very bad—somehow start into a new siege: it is my head, my
My dear Mr.
That is my habit—they call it my procrastination—it has always been my habit.
old days, my youth, my forty years ago, any more!"
But my memory! my memory!"
"My head and my heels tell me so."
My life from my bed to my chair, from my chair to my bed again, is tedious, but endurable."
so—in my friends than in my enemies."
W. writing a note to Harper Brothers who have asked permission to print My Captain in their Fifth Reader
Said to me: "It's My Captain again: always My Captain: the school readers have got along as far as that
My Captain! I want to learn it to speak in school."
It is my nephew—the second son of my sister.
Captain: Could you give me a little further information about my brother Capt. George W.
my boy!
way back to my central thought again—my spinal conviction: I resent my resentment—am ashamed of my questions
Some of them say my face there has a rogue in it. O'Connor called it my sea-captain face.
W. commented in this way: "I'm honest when I say, damn My Captain and all the My Captains in my book!
, my Captain!
FIRST DRAFT MANUSCRIPT OF ONE VERSE OF WHITMAN'S "MY CAPTAIN" My captain does not answer, his lips are
My captain does not answer, his lips are closed and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no
in my optimism, my democracy."
Weda Cook sang a My Captain song of her own composition.
I attribute much of my success in weathering this attack to my good stock—to my father, my mother: indeed
man,' 'my man,' 'my man.'
I must get to my bed: my head reels: I feel as though a minute more on my feet—on my feet—here—would
Where day and night I wend thy surf-beat shore, Imaging to my sense thy varied strange suggestions, (
Where day and night I wend thy surf‑beat shore, Imaging to my sense thy varied strange suggestions, Thy
WITH ANTECEDENTS. 1 WITH antecedents, With my fathers and mothers and the accumulations of past ages,
to-day and America could no-how be better than they are. 3 In the name of these States and in your and my
name, the Past, And in the name of these States and in your and my name, the Present time.
WITH ANTECEDENTS. 1 WITH antecedents, With my fathers and mothers and the accumulations of past ages,
to-day and America could no-how be better than they are. 3 In the name of these States and in your and my
name, the Past, And in the name of these States and in your and my name, the Present time.