Simply enter the word you wish to find and the search engine will search for every instance of the word in the journals. For example: Fight. All instances of the use of the word fight will show up on the results page.
Using an asterisk (*) will increase the odds of finding the results you are seeking. For example: Fight*. The search results will display every instance of fight, fights, fighting, etc. More than one wildcard may be used. For example: *ricar*. This search will return most references to the Aricara tribe, including Ricara, Ricares, Aricaris, Ricaries, Ricaree, Ricareis, and Ricarra. Using a question mark (?) instead of an asterisk (*) will allow you to search for a single character. For example, r?n will find all instances of ran and run, but will not find rain or ruin.
Searches are not case sensitive. For example: george will come up with the same results as George.
Searching for a specific phrase may help narrow down the results. Rather long phrases are no problem. For example: "This white pudding we all esteem".
Because of the creative spellings used by the journalists, it may be necessary to try your search multiple times. For example: P?ro*. This search brings up numerous variant spellings of the French word pirogue, "a large dugout canoe or open boat." Searching for P?*r*og?* will bring up other variant spellings. Searching for canoe or boat also may be helpful.
| Entering in only one field | Searches |
|---|---|
| Year, Month, & Day | Single day |
| Year & Month | Whole month |
| Year | Whole year |
| Month & Day | 1600-#-# to 2100-#-# |
| Month | 1600-#-1 to 2100-#-31 |
| Day | 1600-01-# to 2100-12-# |
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-beloved, 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
My spirit has passed in compassion and determination around the whole earth, I have looked for equals
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!
Loud I call to you my love!
am, my love.
Hither, my love! Here I am! Here!
O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos!
steadily up to my ears, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.
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, And I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother, The same wait to clear
she blushingly cries—Come nigh to me, limber-hipp'd man, and give me your finger and thumb, Stand at my
upon you, Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me, Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my
daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious, here behold my
wide sweep, having brought me again, Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all won- drous wondrous , My
wondrous; Existing, I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present—content with the past, By my
I were nothing, From what I am determined to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men, From my
The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the woman that loves me, and whom I love more than my
, (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me—the girl of The States, To waft to her these from my
own lips—to effuse them from my own body;) From privacy—From frequent repinings alone, From plenty of
the right person not near, From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting of fingers through my
O MY children! O mates!
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 com- pleteness
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
It is I, you women—I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable—but I love you, I do not hurt
babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my
SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly
over my shoulder, The hill-side whitened with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late in autumn—the
pressed and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after love, The body of my
and trembling encircling fingers—the young man all colored, 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
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.)
(Know, I am a man, attracting, at any time, her I but look upon, or touch with the tips of my fingers
, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)
To rise thither with my inebriate Soul! To be lost, if it must be so!
Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!
dancers, and drink with the drink- ers drinkers , The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I take for my
love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he
one condemned by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my
ONCE I passed through a populous city, imprinting my brain, for future use, with its shows, architec-
over waves, toward the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my
Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my
songs in sex, Offspring of my loins.
body, Unfolded only out of the inimitable poems of woman can come the poems of man, (only thence have my
WHAT am I after all but a child, pleas'd with the sound of my own name?
Who Learns My Lesson Complete? WHO LEARNS MY LESSON COMPLETE? WHO learns my lesson complete?
as every one is im- mortal immortal ; I know it is wonderful, but my eyesight 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
And that my soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and
ON my Northwest coast in the midst of the night a fishermen's group stands watching, Out on the lake
Dim smitten star, Orb not of France alone, pale symbol of my soul, its dearest hopes, The struggle and
IN a far-away northern county in the placid pastoral region, Lives my farmer friend, the theme of my
appears to them, (books, politics, poems, depart—all else departs,) I confess I envy only his fascination—my
WANDERING at morn, Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts, Yearning for thee
Thee coil'd in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay, with every meanness, treason thrust
its young, The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic, Fail not to certify and cheer my
If vermin so transposed, so used and bless'd may be, Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my
My Picture-Gallery. MY PICTURE-GALLERY.
bugle-calls, Trooping tumultuous, filling the midnight late, bending me power- less powerless , Entering my
2 Come forward O my soul, and let the rest retire, Listen, lose not, it is toward thee they tend, Parting
the midnight, entering my slumber-chamber, For thee they sing and dance O soul.
cannot tell itself.) 3 Ah from a little child, Thou knowest soul how to me all sounds became music, My
6 Then I woke softly, And pausing, questioning awhile the music of my dream, And questioning all those
PASSAGE TO INDIA. 1 SINGING my days, Singing the great achievements of the present, Singing the strong
Struggles of many a captain, tales of many a sailor dead, Over my mood stealing and spreading they come
of you strong mountains of my land! Of you O prairies! of you gray rocks! O morning red! O clouds!
the blood burns in my veins! Away O soul! hoist instantly the anchor!
O my brave soul! O farther farther sail! O daring joy, but safe! are they not all the seas of God?
Thou knowest my years entire, my life, My long and crowded life of active work, not adoration merely;
Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth, Thou knowest my manhood's solemn and visionary meditations
All my emprises have been fill'd with Thee, My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts
, I yield my ships to Thee.
My hands, my limbs grow nerveless, My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd, Let the old timbers part, I will
THE SLEEPERS. 1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping
I stand in the dark with drooping eyes by the worst-suffering and the most restless, I pass my hands
He whom I call answers me and takes the place of my lover, He rises with me silently from the bed.
. 2 I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me and I am
darn my grandson's stockings.
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
of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled and dispel'd, and my
side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4
in the room where I eat or sleep, I should be satisfied, And if the corpse of any one I love, or if my
YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also, Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles, Earth
Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain
, The sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding, tell me my destination
And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly
need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my
Softly I lay my right hand upon you, you just feel it, I do not argue, I bend my head close and half
arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them than I ignore my
AS I sit with others at a great feast, suddenly while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it comes
thee, And royal feudal Europe sails with thee. 5 Beautiful world of new superber birth that rises to my
(Lo, where arise three peerless stars, To be thy natal stars my country, Ensemble, Evolution, Freedom
my special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!
wood edge, thy touching-distant beams enough, Or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my
launch thy subtle dazzle and thy strength for these, Prepare the later afternoon of me myself—prepare my
lengthen- ing lengthening shadows, Prepare my starry nights.
This face owes to the sexton his dismalest fee, An unceasing death-bell tolls there. 3 Features of my
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
near the garden pickets, Come here she blushingly cries, Come nigh to me limber-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
refreshing night the walks of Paradise, I scent the grass, the moist air and the roses; Thy song expands my
and for my sensuous eyes, Bring the old pageants, show the feudal world.
the terrible tableaus. 7 O trumpeter, methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest, Thou melt'st my
heart, my brain—thou movest, drawest, chan- gest changest them at will; And now thy sullen notes send
soul, renew its languishing faith and hope, Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future
THEE for my recitative, Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining, Thee
Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music, thy swinging lamps at night, Thy madly-whistled laughter
my South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!
O dear to me my birth-things—all moving things and the trees where I was born—the grains, plants, rivers
, Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands or through
, the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa and the Sabine, O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my
parrots in the woods, I see the papaw-tree and the blos- soming blossoming titi; Again, sailing in my
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!
EARLY in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refreshed 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.
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 sun-light 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. Allons! Be not detained!
I give you my hand!
shame or the need of shame. 28* Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my
qualities inter- penetrate interpenetrate with theirs—my name is nothing to them, Though it were told
in the three thousand languages, what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?
When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot, My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath
hitherto published—from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed to my
Soul Clear to me now, standards not yet published— clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man
substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, 29* 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, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves
O blossoms of my blood!
O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers—I think it must be for Death, For
Grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the concealed heart there!
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!
Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affec- tions affections ? Are you he?
doned abandoned ; Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further—Let go your hand from my
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
and then in the silence, Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers around me, Some walk by my
side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive—thicker
lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off a live-oak in Florida
There shall from me be a new friendship—It shall be called after my name, It shall circulate through
other shall be invincible, They shall finally make America completely victo- rious victorious , in my
NOT heaving from my ribbed breast only, Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself, Not
in those long-drawn, ill-suppressed sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful
savage soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my
sleep, Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day, Nor in the limbs and senses of my
O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.
aught of them;) May-be they only seem 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 answered 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