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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
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
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
(See Ted Genoways, "'Scented herbage of my breast': Whitman's Chest Hair and the Frontispiece to the
all—aplomb in the midst of irrational things, Imbued as they—passive, receptive, silent as they, Finding my
woods, or of any farm- life of These States, or of the coast, or the lakes, or Kanada, Me, wherever my
Then my realities, What else is so real as mine?
done and gone, we remain, There is no final reliance but upon us, Democracy rests finally upon us, (I, 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!)
I am de- termined determined to press my way toward you, Sound your voice!
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
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
ALL day I have walked the city, and talked with my friends, and thought of prudence, Of time, space,
do not doubt there is more in myself than I have supposed—and more in all men and women— and more in my
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
beget superb children, To speak readily and clearly—to feel at home among common people, And to hold my
Let me have my own way, Let others promulge the laws—I will make no ac- count account of the laws, Let
charged against me, half as bad as the evil I really am; I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my
friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those
WHO learns my lesson complete?
as every one is immortal, I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally wonderful, and how I was
conceived in my moth- er's mother's womb is equally wonderful; And how I was not palpable once, but
And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we af- fect affect each other without ever seeing each other
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
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
, Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the woman, can come the poems of man—only thence have my
arrive, or passed on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my
good as such-like, visible here or anywhere, stand provided for in a handful of space, which I extend my
arm and half enclose with my hand, That contains the start of each and all—the virtue, the germs of
No—it has not yet fully risen ;) Whether I shall complete what is here started, Whether I shall attain my
WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleased with the sound of my own name?
tell why it affects me so much, when I hear it from women's voices, and from men's voices, or from my
take from my lips this kiss, Whoever you are, I give it especially to you; So long—and I hope we shall
O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! Such sights and sounds!
change of the light and shade, I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them, as my
see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, Do not weep for me, This is not my
race, I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race, I see ranks, colors, barbarisms
My spirit has passed in compassion and determination around the whole earth, I have looked for equals
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!
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.
Features of my equals, would you trick me with your creased and cadaverous march?
I saw the face of the most smeared and slobbering idiot they had at the asylum, And I knew for my consolation
what they knew not, And I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother, The same wait to clear
she blushingly cries—Come nigh to me, limber-hipp'd man, and give me your finger and thumb, Stand at my
upon you, Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to 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
I were nothing, From what I am determined to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men, From my
The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the woman that loves me, and whom I love more than my
, (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me—the girl of The States, To waft to her these from my
own lips—to effuse them from my own body;) From privacy—From frequent repinings alone, From plenty of
the right person not near, From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting of fingers through my
O MY children! O mates!
beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my
As I see my Soul reflected in nature, As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible com- pleteness
O my body!
likes of the Soul, (and that they are the Soul,) I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with 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
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly
over my shoulder, The hill-side whitened with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late in autumn—the
pressed and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after love, The body of my
and trembling encircling fingers—the young man all colored, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my
greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my
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!
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
ONCE I passed through a populous city, imprinting my brain, for future use, with its shows, architec-
over waves, toward the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my
Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my
songs in sex, Offspring of my loins.
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.
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
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?
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well. Allons! Be not detained!
I give you my hand!
shame or the need of shame. 28* Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my
qualities inter- penetrate interpenetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were told
in the three thousand languages, what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?
When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath
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
SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves
O blossoms of my blood!
O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers—I think it must be for Death, For
Grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the concealed heart there!
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!
Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affec- tions affections ? Are you he?
doned abandoned ; Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further—Let go your hand from my
it, Nor do those know me best who admire me, and vauntingly praise me, Nor will the candidates for my
love, (unless at most a very few,) prove victorious, Nor will my poems do good only—they will do just
and then in the silence, Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers around me, Some walk by my
side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive—thicker
lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off a live-oak in Florida
There shall from me be a new friendship—It shall be called after my name, It shall circulate through
other shall be invincible, They shall finally make America completely victo- rious victorious , in my
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.
my likeness!
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.