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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!
.; Reprinted under the new title "To the Pending Year" in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).; Reprinted in Good-Bye
My Fancy (1891).
Would you forgive my suggesting, as a sufficient reply to your adverse critics, the the insertion of
not smell— —I smell the your beautiful white roses— I kiss their soft your leafy lips—I reach slide my
.; Reprinted in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) under the title "Shakspere-Bacon's Cipher."
Paul called Christ, Mohammed called Gabriel, Dante called Beatrice, and Whitman called My Soul.Bucke
Swoon" (this poem appeared in only three editions: Leaves of Grass, 1876, which Bucke used; Good-Bye My
O'Connor, pub'd posthumously in 1891, which appeared in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891), and in William Douglas
But a later letter to Rossetti recanted this position: "I cannot and will not consent, of my own volition
, to countenance an expurgated edition of my pieces" (Whitman 942).
Conversations with Walt Whitman: My First Visit MY FIRST VISIT.
S ADAKICHI : "My father is a German, but my mother was a Japanese and I was born in Japan."
ONE of my first visits, after I had returned to Philadelphia from my first European trip, was to the
In my books, in my prose as well as my poetry are many knots to untie."
my captain' with which he generally concluded.
His elastic, eclectic "I" inviting conflicts and embracing inconsistencies "gives up" to the reader "my
and let one line of my poems contradict another!"
My father, my uncle, my grand-uncle and the several aunts.
In the first he's the unthreaten ing, desexualized rhymster of "0 Captain! My Captain!"
We must of course have read "0 Captain! My Captain!" in school, and I must have hated it.
Moly and My Sad Captains. New York: Farrar, Straus, 1973. - - .
My Likeness!
Yours, my dear Mr.
It was the poem Whitman was "almost sorry [he] ever wrote," "0 Captain! My Captain!"
my work.
My Captain!"
11y Captain!"
at all my notions.
My crime.
All worlds are my worlds. All advances are my advances.
My Captain!”
My hands, my limbs grow nerveless, My brain feels rack’d, bewilder’d, Let the old timbers part, I will
it, in comparison, seem but a mere "mask of materials" or "show of appearance" ("Scented Herbage of My
death as meaning "precisely the same" and as being "folded inseparably together" ("Scented Herbage of My
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me, / And his arm lay around my
My first instinct about all that Symonds writes is violently reactionary—is strong and brutal for no,
Then the thought intervenes that I maybe do not know all my own meanings" (With Walt Whitman 1:76–77)
volume contains the rest of Collect, all of November Boughs (1888), and the first part of Good-Bye My
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.
My version of "Live Oak" differs from Parker's version in the Fourth Edition of The Norton Anthology
of American Literature (1994) , and Parker disapproves of my version, my title, and my interpretation
My essay first appeared in American Poetry Review months before The Continuing Presence came out, and
In any case, it's the later essay with my version of "Live Oak" that Parker rails against.
Parker is right in saying that I neglected to defend my choice, clearly a flaw in my essay.
hun.00021xxx.00596HM 6713'Come said my soul. . .'
[Come, said my Soul]about 1875poetry1 leafhandwritten; A signed draft, heavily revised, of the untitled
'Come said my soul. . .'
Come, said my Soul
26Come, said my Soul… Proof with signature.loc.00183xxx.00596Come, Said My Soul1881poetryhandwritten1
On verso reads "Copyright 1881, By Walt Whitman, All rights reserved" Come, Said My Soul
in the two volumes are Specimen Days & Collect, November Boughs, and the prose portions of Good-Bye My
At the bottom of the recto of the first leaf we find this passage: My Lesson my Have you learned the
to my bare-stript heart, And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.
Part of my purpose in this coda to my exploration of the poet’s creative pro- cess is to take advantage
or “To the Leaven’d Soil they Trod,” Or “Captain! My Captain!”
Le Baron), mystical experience, 9, 36 165, 265n9 “Oh Captain! My Captain!”
dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wending my way through the homes of men, rich
words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd 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
side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4
Softly I lay my right hand upon you, you just feel it, I do not argue, I bend my head close and half
dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wending my way through the homes of men, rich
words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd 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
side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4
Softly I lay my right hand upon you, you just feel it, I do not argue, I bend my head close and half
it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my
AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it
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
sake, Of departing—of the growth of a mightier race than any yet, Of myself, soon, perhaps, closing up my
it harmed me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my
AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it
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
NOW LIST TO MY MORNING'S ROMANZA. 1 Now list to my morning's romanza—I tell the signs of the Answerer
And I stand before the young man face to face, and take his right hand in my left hand, and his left
hand in my right hand, And I answer for his brother, and for men, and I an- swer answer for him that
landscape, people, animals, The profound earth and its attributes, and the unquiet ocean, (so tell I my
to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!
Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully
MY LEGACY.
, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my
I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference
I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure
Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully
MY LEGACY.
, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my
I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference
I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure
States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- color'd rose-color'd flesh; To be conscious of my body
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!
I remember I said, before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
I walk'd the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant,
maintain the be- queath'd bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris with my
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.
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.
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 blabbed
paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-colored light, From my
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-
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, Fallen cold and dead.
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, Fallen cold and dead.
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
I swear I will have each quality of my race in my- self myself , (Talk as you like, he only suits These
rapt verse, my call—mock me not!
my lands!
WEAVE IN, WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE. WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
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
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
indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) —I would sing in my
know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my
love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my
bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her, moving swiftly
My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!
the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa, and the Sabine; O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my
the graceful palmetto; I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?
My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to
Features of my equals, would you trick me with your creas'd and cadaverous march?
I saw the face of the most smear'd 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
pickets, Come here, she blushingly cries—Come nigh to me, lim-ber-hipp'dlimber-hipp'd man, Stand at my
upon you, Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to 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
and meat; I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceiv'd; I will run a furrow with my
I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo!
my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!
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
I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies—as I myself do;
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
And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and
Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem; I whisper with my lips close to your
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!
only out of the inimitable poem of the wo- man woman , can come the poems of man—(only thence have my
arrive, or pass'd 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
WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleased with the sound of my own name?
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me
and which are my miracles?
friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those
WHO learns my lesson complete?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before
Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my
And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?
my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to
BEGINNING MY STUDIES.