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The oppression of my heart is not fitful and has no pangs; but a torpor like that of some stagnant pool
Around me are my brother men, merry and jovial.
—Ah, if the flesh could but act what my rational mind, in its moments of clear inspiration aspires to
STARTING NEWSPAPERS (ANOTHER ACCOUNT) Reminiscences —( From the "Camden Courier." )—As I sat taking my
As I cross'd leisurely for an hour in the pleasant night-scene, my young friend's words brought up quite
How it made my heart double-beat to see my piece on the pretty white paper, in nice type.
My first real venture was the "Long Islander," in my own beautiful town of Huntington, in 1839.
I enjoy'd my journey and Louisiana life much.
One of the great pleasures of my time in graduate school was acquiring, piece by piece, the entire 24
for those books—in the years just before the creation of the World Wide Web—gave me a reason to leave my
still had many secondhand bookstores, and sometimes travel to other cities in the hope of completing my
On 6 August 1889 O'Dowd commenced a letter to Whitman, addressed as "My Reverend Master," which he never
Sir: In answer to your letter of the 6th instant, requesting my views as to the expediency of complying
"My Discovery and Exploration of the Whitman Continent (1941–1991)."
am a Russ, An arctic sailor traversing I traverse the sea of Kara A Kamskatkan Kamchatkan drawn on my
the ashes of the soldiers, whose dearness to him is signified by the repetition of the possessive "my
soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my
Now sound no note O trumpeters, Not at the head of my cavalry parading on spirited horses, With sabres
drawn and glistening, and carbines by their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen!
My handsome tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.)
Perfume therefore my chant, O love, immortal love, Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers
soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my
Now sound no note O trumpeters, Not at the head of my cavalry parading on spirited horses, With sabres
drawn and glistening, and carbines by their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen!
My handsome tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.)
Perfume therefore my chant, O love, immortal love, Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers
My dear old friend Mr. Whitman So many years have passed since we last saw each other.
that you remember me , and the old home on M.Street —and the dear old "Cherry Tree" " where you and my
Sevellon Brown, Sackett my son were there also.
Although many years have passed since you lived at my house and many changes have come to us, still,
hope this may reach you, it would give me a great deal of pleasure to know that you remember me and my
I began to feel very much numbed with the cold, and my eyes suffered a good deal from the glare of the
I was now only able to take three steps at a time without stopping, as my legs began to give way, and
I attribute my being able to reach the top to my wind; I never felt want of breath at any time, while
M., with my hands cut to bits, my nails worn to the quick with holding on, I reached the hut and there
One of my eyes is completely 'bunged up,' the other just enables me to see to write this.
But as I did not receive an answer from you, and thinking that my letter miscarried, I concluded to write
That he obtained your goods & service under false pretenses is perfectly certain to my mind .
would let me have some property which he had no earthly use for viz some books which had once been in my
private library a $150 bookcase which had been in my library 5 or 6 years before I thought of going
pay you $200.00 (just what was due Dec 1st '74) In another place he binds himself to carry out all my
I have done for 3 or 4 years, day & night & sunday, to get justice out of this fellow for myself & my
Whitman's own experiences during this visit to the front.The soldier's epitaph—"Bold, cautious, true, and my
The latent meaning submerged within "my loving comrade" as the antithesis of "true," in other words,
"My book and the war are one," Whitman would assert in "To Thee Old Cause" (1871); in "Toilsome" that
AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas
this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of
the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my
AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas
this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of
soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my
AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas
this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of
soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my
AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas
this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my
Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of
the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my
leaf7 x 15.5 cm; This manuscript bears some similarity in subject to the poem that became Who Learns My
AS they draw to a close, Of what underlies the precedent songs—of my aims in them, Of the seed I have
in them, Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them, (For them, for them have I lived, in them my
AS they draw to a close, Of what underlies the precedent songs—of my aims in them, Of the seed I have
in them, Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them, (For them, for them have I lived, in them my
States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
States awhile, but I cannot tell whither or how long, Perhaps soon some day or night while I am singing my
States awhile, but I cannot tell whither or how long, Perhaps soon some day or night while I am singing my
The States—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
included in any subsequent editions of Leaves of Grass, Whitman did include it in the 1891 volume Good-Bye My
not included in any subsequent editions of Leaves, Whitman did include it in the 1891 volume Good-Bye My
not included in any subsequent editions of Leaves, Whitman did include it in the 1891 volume Good-Bye My
not included in any subsequent editions of Leaves, Whitman did include it in the 1891 volume Good-Bye 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
Then my realities; What else is so real as mine?
Then my realities; What else is so real as mine?
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
As I sit writing here, sick and grown old, Not my least burden is that dulness of the years, querilities
, Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy, constipation, whimpering ennui, May filter in my daily songs.
That, O my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.
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!
You, by my charm, I invoke!
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!
AS I PONDER'D IN SILENCE. 1 AS I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering
then I answer'd, I too, haughty Shade, also sing war—and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my
AS I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before
then I answered, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my
As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before
then I answer'd, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my
Sheree L.Gilbert"As I Lay with My Head in Your Lap Camerado" (1865–1866)"As I Lay with My Head in Your
Lap Camerado" (1865–1866)"As I Lay with My Head in Your Lap Camerado" first appeared in Whitman's separately
"As I Lay with My Head in Your Lap Camerado" (1865–1866)
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
In you whoe'er you are my book perusing, In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing, All,
the West joyously sounding, Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable, Infinitesimals out of my
life, and many a life, (For not my life and years alone I give—all, all I give,) These waifs from the
In you whoe'er you are my book perusing, In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing, All,
the West joyously sounding, Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable, Infinitesimals out of my
life, and many a life, (For not my life and years alone I give—all, all I give,) These waifs from the
AS at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my mother
AS at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my mother