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Endlich 1891, im Winter vor seinem Todesjahr, das gleichfalls gemischte Bändchen „Good-bye my Fancy“
die Prosaschriften in dieser Reihenfolge: „Specimen Days“, „Collect“, „November Boughs“ und „Good-bye my
Siebzigjährigen“). 1891, im Dezember, im Winter vor seinem Todesjahr, erschien als Sonderdruck „Good-bye my
For today, my work is done. It is growing dusky.
, Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring, Or withdrawn to muse
"My lovers suffocate me . . . thick in the pores of my skin."
I sit, my gaze directed to my world map. I sing the ocean, the mother of the earth.
This is what my taste tastes. . . .
exist") wofür ich da bin ("what I am there for") die Frage nach meiner Bestimmung ("the question of my
destiny") wer ich sei ("who I am/may be") was ich tauge ("what I am good for" | "what my worth is")
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
But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, O how shall I warble myself for the dead one
(I think I see my friends smiling at this confession, but I was never more in earnest in my life.)
The rebel Captain then shot him—but at the same instant he shot the Captain.
I can say that in my ministerings I comprehended all, whoever came in my way, Northern or Southern, and
Also, same Reg't., my brother, Geo. W.
Let me try to give my view.
GOOD-BYE MY FANCY.
My health is somewhat better, and my spirit at peace.
Indeed all my ferry friends—captain Frazee the superintendent, Lindell, Hiskey, Fred Rauch, Price, Watson
my ear.
Gilchrist—friends of my soul—stanchest friends of my other soul, my poems. ONLY A NEW FERRY BOAT.
O Captain! my Captain!............................
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my captain!
Leave you not the little spot, 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
, with bends and chutes; And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri; The
My limbs, my veins dilate; The blood of the world has fill'd me full—my theme is clear at last: —Banner
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night, When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
See, my cantabile!
President Lincoln's Funeral Hymn O Captain! My Captain! (for the Death of Lincoln) Pioneers!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! (F OR THE EATH OF INCOLN CAPTAIN ! my Captain! our fearful trip is done!
Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!
my Captain! rise up and hear the bells! Rise up!
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still: My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
.; ∗ The reader will share my wish that Whitman had written sanctus spiritus, which is right, instead
The recherché or ethereal sense of the term, as used in my book, arises probably from the actual Calamus
my Captain!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 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
"You have worked hard to-day, my son." "I've been mowing."
Feel of my hands." There were blisters on them like great lumps. Tears started in the widow's eyes.
I'd as leive lieve be in my grave as there." And the child burst into a passionate fit of weeping.
"There, my lads," he said to his companions, "there's a new recruit for you.
"I've no occasion; beside, it makes my head ache, and I have promised my mother not to drink any," was
I cannot, of course, convey to others that particular kind of influence, which is derived from my being
I must hardly expect, therefore, that to those who hear it through the medium of my pen, the narration
times which marked our American Revolution that the incidents occurred which are the foundation of my
Again I ask pardon for my rudeness. Let me now be shown to this chamber—this haunted chamber.
He came to my very bed-side; his small hand was raised, and almost touched my face.
The circumstances of my family were easy; I received a good education, was intended by my father for
The eldest was my favorite.
I kept a box of my own, and frequently attended, often giving my family permission also to be present
My blood curdled as I saw there an image of the form of my son—my cruelly treated Luke—but oh, how ghastly
I clapped my hands to my ears, to keep out the appalling sounds that seemed to freeze my very blood.
trifling suffusion spread over his face; "if you like, I'll put the saddle on Black Nell—she's here at my
I took my lamp, and went my way to my room.
I stopped and leaned my back against the fence, with my face turned toward the white marble stones a
; and answered, "My husband's."
She looked at me for a minute, as if in wonder at my perverseness; and then answered as before, "My husband's
my open hands and thought.
have of late frequently come to me times when I do not dread the grave—when I could lie down, and pass my
greatest and profoundest truths are often most plain to the senses of men—in the same resemblance, my
The scene of the meeting was the school house; and having no other means of employing my time, I determined
"You are whimsical, my dear," said the matron, as she took the paper; "why do you desire so needless
"My son," she cried, in uncontrollable agony; "my son! you die!"
Whitman reused this sentence and the preceding one, beginning "My son," with minor revisions, in " The
.; Whitman reused this sentence and the preceding one, beginning "My son," with minor revisions, in "
I was alone, the family of my host having gone on some visit to a neighbor.
Insensibly, my consciousness became less and less distinct; my head leaned back; my eyes closed; and
my senses relaxed from their waking vigilance.
The person to whom I spoke stared in my face surprisedly.
"Himself hung it around my neck," said the veteran.
And the gentle creature blushes at my protestations of love, and leans her cheek upon my neck.
"My brother, thus have I lived my life. Your look asks me if I have been happy.
"My brother, a maiden's tears washed my stern resolves away.
Various fortune followed my path.
But I can lay my hand upon my heart, and thank the Great Master, that the sunshine has been far oftener
What is yours, my brother?" "Behold!" answered the Spirit.
You traitor to my dead father—robber of his children! I fear to think on what I think now!"
They will ask me of news about my brother: Let me not say, I left him weeping like a girl!"
"Tell them," rejoined the chief, "that I met my punishment as a hunter grasps the hand of one he loves
When I came hither, not many days since, I was near to death, even then—and my fate would have happened
monk when he could safely walk the distance of the village: "Though judging by the cool kindness of my
"Patience, my son!" said the holy father; "tomorrow I will myself accompany you thither.
"Why are you crying, my little son?" said he.
"My brother is sick," answered the child. "I have no father. He is dead."
"What is your name, my poor boy?" he asked. "Adam Covert," said the child.
Reprinted as "Interpolation Sounds" in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).
When reprinted in "Good-Bye My Fancy," the poem included the note, "General Sheridan was buried at the
Reprinted under the new title "To the Pending Year" in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).; Our transcription is
poems published as the cluster "Old Age Echoes" in Lippincott's Magazine were reprinted in Good-bye My
.; Reprinted as "Out from Behind This Mask: To confront My Portrait, illustrating 'the Wound-Dresser,
Reprinted in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).; Our transcription is based on a digital image of an original
My Canary Bird
mentions in a letter to Richard Maurice Bucke on February 16, 1888: "it is chilly here as I finish this—my
Queries to My Seventieth Year
Sea Captains, Young or Old
It was included without the note in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).; Our transcription is based on a digital
.; An earlier version of this poem entitled "My Departure" appeared in the Long Island Democrat, 23 October
fiercely, and rack my soul with great pain.
These elements are the influences of my nature on the one side, and those of my habits on the other.
My eyes answered, yes. So I learned language.
Only one of them came near to me, in my progress.
about my own age.
"You are welcome, my brother," said the Unrelenting.
Behold all that is left to brighten my heart!"
"Many years since," said the chief, "when my cheek was soft, and my arms felt the numbness of but few
I felt the edge of my tomahawk—it was keen as my hate.
I raised my arm—I gathered my strength—I struck, and cleft the warrior's brain in quivering halves!"
I expressed my desire at the suggestion, and he commenced his narrative: Both this original printing
"My child!" she cried, in uncontrollable agony, "my child! you die!"
This sentence and the preceding one, beginning "My child," also first appeared, with minor differences
He acknowledged in answer to my questioning, that he had indeed been relating a story, the hero of which
.; This sentence and the preceding one, beginning "My child," also first appeared, with minor differences
equipages roll by—I see the respectful bow at the presence of pride—and I curse the contrast between my
The lofty air—the show of dress—the aristocratic demeanor—the glitter of jewels—dazzle my eyes; and sharp-toothed
Why: should my path be so much rougher than theirs? Pitiable, unfortunate man that I am!
to be placed beneath those whom in my heart I despise—and to be constantly tantalized with the presence
Barcoure was a young man—like my hero.
Indeed it may be found, before the end of my story, that the right of main personage may lie between
advance any farther, it were well for me to remind the reader that I seek to paint life and men, in my
My Boys and Girls MY BOYS AND GIRLS.
Yet such is the case, as I aver upon my word.
Several times has the immortal Washington sat on my shoulders, his legs dangling down upon my breast,
Right well do I love many more of my children. H. is my "summer child."
But shall I forget to mention one other of my children?
Because issues of The Rover do not include a publication date, there is some disagreement about when "My
suggests March or April 1844—between March 27 and April 20, 1844—as the likely date of publication of "My
For more information on the autobiographical aspects of the story and its publication, see "About 'My
though shining out very brightly by fits and starts, seemed incapable of conveying any warmth, I took my
hat, which I was able to keep on my head not without considerable effort.
My flesh quivered with the bitter coldness of the air. My breath appeared steam. Qu-foo-o!
I gave an extra pull of my hat over my brows—a closer adjustment of my collar around my shoulders, and
way homeward, imbue my fancy with a kindred glee and joyousness!
I threw my valise upon a bench, and my over-coat upon it.
My employer, Mr.
my duties during the day.
knowledge and my memory.
My country relations were not forgotten by me in my good fortune.
I was at that time studying law, the profession my father followed.
brother, and two other students who were in my father's office.
my fingers quiver yet as I write the word!) young Ninon, the daughter of the widow.
My brother was the only one who preserved his usual tenor of temper and conduct.
My sight seemed to waver, my head felt dizzy, and a feeling of deadly sickness came over me.
Now I, who so love to see my neighbors happy," the hunchback grinned, "could not bear that the pretty
I approached, and told him my errand.
He took my letter—and then asked me into his hut; for it was near at hand.
He put before me some drink and meat, and then, though he spoke not, I saw he wished my departure.
"And now you have all of my story—and I must go, for it is time Peter Brown received his answer."
Thorne, "it will be the best for Quincy to come with my party.
"Know you aught of this terrible business, my son?"
Boddo went on, "though to tell the fact, he did not know it himself for quite a long while—I, with my
"They met—this man and my sister.
My sister fell!
"One day my sister was missing.
He accepted my challenge.
I was blinded by my hate for my sister's betrayer.
And I would not have my wife come hither, at least at present—for I think of no good she can do.
Tell me, Father Luke, how long do you think will be the duration of my illness?"
But judging from the best of my knowledge, I may be able to recover you in three days, so that you can
At this very moment you are falling into a fever which will require all my watchfulness.
Now, my son, compose yourself to sleep."
"My companions and myself have been sent hither," answered the other, "to learn from you what you can
For two or three mornings past, on going as I usually do at daylight to take care of my cattle, and feed
them, I have missed something from the storehouse where I keep my grain and farming utensils.
"And lest I should oversleep myself," said the boy, "come to my window, which opens on the river, and
My people knew not of my coming—none but my brother's wife, to whom I confided my purpose, lest they
The love of life was strong in my soul.
I felt my arm, and said to myself, perhaps in the village of the pale-faces, there may be something that
In the night, when all were sleeping, I came out from our lodge, and bent my steps toward your town.
"Shame were it to me and my wife," said Thorne, "did we let one who has saved a life very dear to us,
I felt of my hatchet's edge—it was keen as my hate.
my sorrowful cousins, and went my way.
Wife of my youth! of my early youth!
All my cruelty—all my former love—all my guilt—all my disregard of the sacred ties—seemed concentrated
My deeds were as good as my word.
Among temperance novels then quite popular were Lucius Manley Sargent's My Mother's Gold Ring (1833),