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Search : of captain, my captain!

8122 results

With Antecedents.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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.

A Broadway Pageant.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

salutes, When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me, and heaven- clouds heaven-clouds canopy my

To us, my city, Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite sides, to walk in the

See my cantabile!

, I chant the world on my Western sea, I chant copious the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky,

sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes, My stars and stripes fluttering in the wind,

Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?

Loud I call to you, my love!

who I am, my love.

Hither my love! Here I am! here!

But my mate no more, no more with me! We two together no more.

As I Ebb'd With the Ocean of Life.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Fascinated, my eyes reverting from the south, dropt, to follow those slender windrows, Chaff, straw,

O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth, Oppress'd with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,

whose echoes recoil upon me I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my

sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart upon me and sting me, Because I have dared to open my

Me and mine, loose windrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See, from my dead lips

To the Man-of-War-Bird.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

That sport'st amid the lightning-flash and thunder-cloud, In them, in thy experiences, had'st thou my

On the Beach at Night.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Weep not, child, Weep not, my darling, With these kisses let me remove your tears, The ravening clouds

Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper, I give thee the first suggestion,

Song for All Seas, All Ships.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Of sea-captains young or old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors, Of the few, very choice, taciturn

rest, A spiritual woven signal for all nations, emblem of man elate above death, Token of all brave captains

and mates, And all that went down doing their duty, Reminiscent of them, twined from all intrepid captains

When I Read the Book.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?

(As if any man really knew aught of my life, Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of

my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to

Beginning My Studies.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Beginning My Studies. BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

BEGINNING my studies the first step pleas'd me so much, The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the

Me Imperturbe.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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 Canada , Me wherever my

Savantism.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

minute, Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, persons, estates; Thither we also, I with my

Shut Not Your Doors.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

well-fill'd shelves, yet needed most, I bring, Forth from the war emerging, a book I have made, The words of my

Starting From Paumanok.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

rais'd by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my

, Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring, Or withdrawn to muse

place with my own day here.

My comrade!

my intrepid nations! O I at any rate include you all with perfect love!

Song of Myself.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes

My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents

We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands

Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries

My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets

To the Garden the World

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

cycles in their wide sweep having brought me again, Amorous, mature, all beautiful to me, all wondrous, My

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

From Pent-Up Aching Rivers.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

I were nothing, From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men, From my

at random, Renascent with grossest Nature or among animals, Of that, of them and what goes with them my

The oath of the inseparableness of two together, of the woman that loves me and whom I love more than my

the right person not near, From the soft sliding of hands over me and thrusting of fingers through my

I Sing the Body Electric.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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 completeness, sanity

For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves. 9 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

poems, and that they are my poems, Man's, woman's, child's, youth's, wife's, husband's, mother's, father's

A Woman Waits for Me.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Spontaneous Me.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend

hanging idly over my shoulder, The hillside whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same late

and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love, life that is only life after love, The body of my

trembling encircling fingers, the young man all color'd, 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

One Hour to Madness and Joy.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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.)

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

Out of the Rolling Ocean the Crowd.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe, Return in peace to the ocean my love, I too am part of

that ocean my love, we are not so much sepa- rated separated , Behold the great rondure, the cohesion

little space—know you I salute the air, the ocean and the land, Every day at sundown for your dear sake my

Ages and Ages Returning at Intervals.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

Native Moments.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

moments—when you come upon me—ah you are here now, Give me now libidinous joys only, Give me the drench of my

and drink with the drinkers, The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I pick out some low person for my

one condemn'd by others for deeds done, I will play a part no longer, why should I exile myself from my

Once I Pass'd Through a Populous City.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

ONCE I pass'd through a populous city imprinting my brain for future use with its shows, architecture

I Heard You Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Italian tenor singing at the opera, I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing; Heart of my

you too I heard murmuring low through one of the wrists around my head, Heard the pulse of you when all

was still ringing little bells last night under my ear.

Facing West From California's Shores.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

over waves, towards the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my

As Adam Early in the Morning.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower refresh'd 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

In Paths Untrodden.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

hitherto publish'd, from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my

soul, Clear to me now standards not yet publish'd, clear to me that my soul, That the soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing hence types of athletic love, 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.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Scented Herbage of My Breast. SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I glean, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves

O blossoms of my blood!

grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the conceal'd heart there!

Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!

Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?

be abandon'd, Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further, let go your hand from my

acquire 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

These I Singing in Spring.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

now and then in the silence, Alone I had thought, yet soon a troop gathers around me, Some walk by my

side and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They the spirits of dear friends dead or alive

something for tokens, tossing toward whoever is near me, Here, lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my

Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.

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

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

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

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

Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

knows, aught of them,) May-be seeming 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 answer'd 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

Recorders Ages Hence.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior, I will tell you what to say of me, Publish my

name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover, The friend the lover's portrait, of whom

When I Heard at the Close of the Day.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

it was not a happy night for me that follow'd, And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd

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

dear friend my lover was on his way coming, O then I was happy, O then each breath tasted sweeter, and

all that day my food nourish'd me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well, And the next came with equal

Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

down-balls nor perfumes, nor the high rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air, Any more than my

Trickle Drops.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

from me falling, drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face, from my forehead and lips, From my breast, from within where I was conceal'd, press forth red

City of Orgies.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

the streets, nor the bright windows with goods in them, Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my

as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my

Behold This Swarthy Face.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

BEHOLD this swarthy face, these gray eyes, This beard, the white wool unclipt upon my neck, My brown

I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

upon it, and twined around it a little moss, And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my

room, It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends, (For I believe lately I think of little

To a Stranger.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

or a girl with me, I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my

body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard

The Wound-Dresser.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

noise of the world a rural domestic life, Give me to warble spontaneous songs recluse by myself, for my

excitement, and rack'd by the war-strife,) These to procure incessantly asking, rising in cries from my

heart, While yet incessantly asking still I adhere to my city, Day upon day and year upon year O city

enrich'd of soul, you give me forever faces; (O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my

cries, I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.) 2 Keep your splendid silent sun, Keep your

Dirge for Two Veterans.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial! What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light, And the bugles and the drums give you music, And my heart, O my soldiers, my

veterans, My heart gives you love.

The Artilleryman's Vision.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests

night midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my

with eager calls and orders of officers, While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my

far or near, (rousing even in dreams a devilish exultation and all the old mad joy in the depths of my

galloping by or on a full run, With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my

Ethiopia Saluting the Colors.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Me master years a hundred since from my parents sunder'd, A little child, they caught me as the savage

Reconciliation.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my

look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my

How Solemn as One by One.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

glance upward out of this page studying you, dear friend, whoever you are,) How solemn the thought of my

As I Lay With My Head in Your Lap Camerado.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

As I Lay With My Head in Your Lap Camerado. AS I LAY WITH MY HEAD IN YOUR LAP CAMERADO.

AS I lay with my head in your lap camerado, The confession I made I resume, what I said to you and the

open air I resume, I know I am restless and make others so, I know my words are weapons full of danger

Delicate Cluster.

  • Date: 1891–1892
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Covering all my lands—all my seashores lining! Flag of death!

Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!

My sacred one, my mother.

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