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Search : of captain, my captain!

8125 results

Solid, Ironical, Rolling Orb

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

—at last I accept your terms; Bringing to practical, vulgar tests, of all my ideal dreams, And of me,

Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life WEAVE IN, WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE. WEAVE in!

weave in, my hardy life!

Pensive on Her Dead Gazing, I Heard the Mother of All

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

earth, she cried—I charge you, lose not my sons!

local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly, And all you essences of soil and growth—and you, O my

; And you trees, down in your roots, to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb—my young men's beautiful

darlings—give my immortal heroes; Exhale me them centuries hence—breathe me their breath—let not an

O my dead, an aroma sweet! Exhale them perennial, sweet death, years, centuries hence.

When Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom'd

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!

And what shall my perfume be, for the grave of him I love?

O wild and loose to my soul! O wondrous singer!

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, As to long panoramas of visions. 18 I saw the vision

Must I pass from my song for thee; From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, com- muning communing

O Captain! My Captain!

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

O Captain! 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!

This arm I push beneath you; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. 3 My captain

But I, with silent tread, Walk the spot my captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

Spirit Whose Work Is Done

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet

steps keep time: —Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day; Touch my

mouth, ere you depart—press my lips close!

Let them scorch and blister out of my chants, when you are gone; Let them identify you to the future

Chanting the Square Deific

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

dear brothers' and sisters' sake—for the soul's sake; Wending my way through the homes of men, rich

children—with fresh and sane words, mine only; Young and strong I pass, knowing well I am destin'd my

- self myself to an early death: But my Charity has no death—my Wisdom dies not, neither early nor late

, And my sweet Love, bequeath'd here and elsewhere, never dies. 3 Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time, nor change, shall ever change me or my words.

I Heard You, Solemn-Sweet Pipes of the Organ

  • Date: 1867
  • 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.

Not My Enemies Ever Invade Me

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Not My Enemies Ever Invade Me NOT MY ENEMIES EVER INVADE ME.

NOT my enemies ever invade me—no harm to my pride from them I fear; But the lovers I recklessly love—lo

me, ever open and helpless, bereft of my strength!

Ah Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky Retreats

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

(For what is my life, or any man's life, but a conflict with foes—the old, the incessant war?)

painful and choked articulations—you mean- nesses meannesses ; You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my

You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother'd ennuis; Ah, think not you finally triumph—My

As I Lay With My Head in Your Lap, Camerado

  • Date: 1867
  • 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

Dirge for Two Veterans

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!

have I also give you. 9 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.

How Solemn, as One by One

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

Reconciliation

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

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

To the Leaven'd Soil They Trod

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

trod, calling, I sing, for the last; (Not cities, nor man alone, nor war, nor the dead, But forth from my

vistas beyond— to the south and the north; To the leaven'd soil of the general western world, to attest my

Northern ice and rain, that began me, nourish me to the end; But the hot sun of the South is to ripen my

As I Sat Alone by Blue Ontario's Shore

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

For that we live, my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.

Have you studied out my land, its idioms and men?

What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?

rapt song, my charm—mock me not!

You, by my charm, I invoke!

Leaves of Grass 2

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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

To Other Lands

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

for something to repre- sent represent the new race, our self-poised Democracy, Therefore I send you my

Song of the Open Road

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!

Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

My call is the call of battle—I nourish active re- bellion rebellion ?

It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well. Allons! Be not detain'd!

I give you my hand!

To Workingmen

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

To Workingmen TO WORKINGMEN. 1 COME closer to me; Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess;

Neither a servant nor a master am I; I take no sooner a large price than a small price—I will have my

become so for your sake; If you remember your foolish and outlaw'd deeds, do you think I cannot remember my

are; I am this day just as much in love with them as you; Then I am in love with you, and with all my

List close, my scholars dear!

Leaves of Grass 1

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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!

American Feuillage

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

New Orleans, San Francisco, The departing ships, when the sailors heave at the capstan; Evening—me in my

room—the setting sun, The setting summer sun shining in my open window, showing the swarm of flies,

, futurity, In space, the sporades, the scattered islands, the stars —on the firm earth, the lands, my

less in myself than the whole of the Manna- hatta Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my

my lands are inevitably united, and made ONE IDENTITY; Nativities, climates, the grass of the great

Mannahatta

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo!

there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient; I see that the word of my

my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!

France, the 18th Year of These States

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

I walk'd the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant,

I maintain the be- queath bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris with my

Thoughts 4

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my

Thoughts 5

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it

Thoughts 6

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

if that were not the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my

poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems; As if here

To Him That Was Crucified

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

MY spirit to yours, dear brother; Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you

I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others also;) I specify you with joy, O my

divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side, They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my

To One Shortly to Die

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-

Unnamed Lands

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any more than this shall be the end of my

When I Read the Book

  • Date: 1867
  • 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; As if you, O cunning Soul, did not keep your secret well

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

This Moment Yearning and Thoughtful.

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

dialects, And it seems to me if I could know those men I should become attached to them as I do to men in my

Here the Frailest Leaves of Me.

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

HERE the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself

do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.

Earth, My Likeness.

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

Earth, My Likeness. EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

EARTH, my likeness, Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there, I now suspect that is not

What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand?

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

What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand? WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND?

WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

Sometimes With One I Love.

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

is no unreturn'd love, the pay is certain one way or another, (I loved a certain person ardently and my

Fast Anchor'd Eternal O Love!

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

Then separate, as disembodied or another born, 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.

That Shadow My Likeness.

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

That Shadow My Likeness. THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

THAT shadow my likeness that goes to and fro seeking a liveli- hood livelihood , chattering, chaffering

and looking at it where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But among my

Full of Life Now.

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

When you read these I that was visible am become invisible, Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my

Salut Au Monde!

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

1 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-belov'd, 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

side.) 13 My spirit has pass'd in compassion and determination around the whole earth, I have look'd

Song of the Open Road.

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

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 sunlight 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—be not detain'd!

Camerado, I give you my hand!

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.

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

than you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my

forever held in solution, I too had receiv'd identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body,

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? We understand then do we not?

loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Despairing Cries

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

. 1 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my

alarm'd, uncertain, The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my

Poems of Joy

  • Date: 1867
  • Creator(s): Walt Whitman
Text:

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!

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