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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; I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother, The same wait to clear the
Come nigh to me limber-hip'd man and give me your finger and thumb, Stand at my side till I lean as high
Fill me with albescent honey . . . . bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard . . rub to my
Leaves of Grass, "I Wander All Night in My Vision," Leaves of Grass.
My hands are spread forth . .
I descend my western course . . . . my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I
darn my grandson's stockings.
though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death.
my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes and holding me by the bare waist, Deluding my confusion
My Soul!
We closed with him . . . . the yards entangled . . . . the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, and my women and household and intimates, Now the performer
COME closer to me, Push close my lovers and take the best I possess, Yield closer and closer and give
I will have my own whoever enjoys me, I will be even with you, and you shall be even with me.
become so for your sake; If you remember your foolish and outlawed deeds, do you think I cannot remember my
am this day just as much in love with them as you, But I am eternally in love with you and with all my
friendly companions, I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women
thereof—and no less in myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my
ever united lands—my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made one identity, any more than
my lands are inevitably united, and made one identity, Nativities, climates, the grass of the great
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, to Cudge that hoes in the sugarfield;
Then the mechanics take him for a mechanic, And the soldiers suppose him to be a captain . . . . and
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
do not doubt there is more in myself than I have supposed—and more in all men and women— and more in my
ALL day I have walked the city, and talked with my friends, and thought of prudence, Of time, space,
Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem; I whisper with my lips close to your
O I have been dilatory and dumb; I should have made my way straight to you long ago; I should have blabb'd
paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-color'd light; From my
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
WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleased with the sound of my own name?
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 mother's womb is equally wonderful; And pass'd from a babe, in the creeping trance of
And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and
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
arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them, than I ignore my
take from my lips this kiss, Whoever you are, I give it especially to you; So long—and I hope we shall
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
No—it has not yet fully risen ;) Whether I shall complete what is here started, Whether I shall attain my
Let me have my own way; Let others promulge the laws—I will make no account of the laws; Let others praise
I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies—as I myself do;
I am de- termined determined to press my way toward you, Sound your voice!
only out of the inimitable poem of the wo- man woman , can come the poems of man—(only thence have 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
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
Although one additional poem, "Come, said my Soul," would later be restored to the Leaves as epigraph
Between the poems and the essay, filling pages 405–422, appeared the second annex, "Good-Bye my Fancy
of his long labors: "L. of G. at last complete—after 33 y'rs of hackling at it, all times & moods of my
work, books especially, has pass'd; and waiting till fully after that, I have given (pages 423–438) my
by the 1889 text of the poems of Leaves of Grass; the two annexes, "Sands at Seventy" and "Good-Bye my
poems (five) contained in the 1876 Leaves: four intercalated poems and the title page's "Come, said my
most recognizable image of the "Ship of State" had been published in the popular 1865–1866 text, "O Captain
My Captain!
Leaves contains only six new poems ("Inscription" [later "One's-Self I Sing" and "Small the Theme of My
reveals a darker Whitman, suspicious, uncertain, and lonely: "Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my
—They retard my book very much" (Correspondence 1:44).
and 73d Years of These States," "A Boston Ballad (1854)," "There Was a Child Went Forth," "Who Learns My
My fit is mastering me!"
Ballad (1854)," would be hard to fit into "Song of Myself," and the omission of the slight "Who Learns My
himself the murderous impulse which may precipitate his fits of existential anxiety and sexual guilt: "My
arrive, or passed on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my
, Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the woman, can come the poems of man—only thence have my
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
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
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
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
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!)
O lips of my soul, already becoming powerless! O ample and grand Presidentiads! New history!
(I must not venture—the ground under my feet men- aces menaces me—it will not support me;) O present!
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my 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
or "To the Leaven'd Soil they Trod," Or "Captain! My Captain!"
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
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
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast
MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,(says my grandmother's father;) We have
my Captain!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 1 O CAPTAIN! my captain!
Leave you not the little spot, Where on the deck my captain lies.
Fallen cold and dead. 2 O captain! my captain!
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!
my soul!
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the can- non cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
O my body!
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
my respects.
my respects.
My Soul!
We closed with him . . . . the yards entangled . . . . the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes and holding me by the bare waist, Deluding my confusion
My Soul!
We closed with him . . . . the yards entangled . . . . the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, and my women and household and intimates, Now the performer
I rubbed my eyes a little, to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is
head at nightfall, and he is fain to say,— I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable; I sound my
I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease…observing a spear of summer grass.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeeful green stuff woven.
All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.
." ***** "O despairer, here is my neck, You shall not go down! Hang your whole weight upon me."
My moral constitution may be hopelessly tainted or—too sound to be tainted, as the critic wills, but
, Earth of the limpid grey of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far swooping elbowed earth!
The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul."
———Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance ."
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed earth!
the wounded person, My hurt turns livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
Heat and smoke I inspired…I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their
I lie in the night air in my red shirt…the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie, exhausted
"I, too, am not a bit tamed…I, too, am untransla- table untranslatable ; I sound my barbaric yawp over
I could not shut my eyes to their wild, rough beauty nor close my soul to the truths they expressed.
I write simply to express my unqualified disgust with the portions I have read.