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27O Captain! My Captain! (1865).
.00218My Captainabout 1865poetryhandwritten3 leaves; Draft of the poem that would be published as O Captain
My Captain! in 1865, titled here My Captain.
My Captain
(See Ted Genoways, "'Scented herbage of my breast': Whitman's Chest Hair and the Frontispiece to the
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
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
Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-
I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to
cheerfully accept, A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money —these as I rendezvous with my
who should serve the good old cause, the prog- ress progress and freedom of the race, the cause of my
for something to repre- sent represent the new race, our self-poised Democracy, Therefore I send you my
I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, and behold!
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!
I walked the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant,
and cogent, I maintain the bequeath'd cause, as for all lands, And I send these words to Paris, with 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
that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any more than this shall be the end of my
Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, per- sons persons , estates, Thither we also, I with my
Debris 5 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my
alarmed, uncertain, This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my
Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go without him.
my clothes were stolen while I was abed, Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their
carefully darn my grandson's stockings.
How he informs against my brother and sister, and takes pay for their blood!
How perfect is my Soul! How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it!
My Soul! if I realize you, I have satisfaction, Animals and vegetables!
I cannot define my satisfaction, yet it is so, I cannot define my life, yet it is so.
To My Soul TO MY SOUL.
The States—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my
Then all may arrive to but this; The glances of my eyes, that swept the daylight, The unspeakable love
I interchanged with women, My joys in the open air—my walks through the Man- nahatta Manahatta , The
of my mouth, rude, ignorant, arrogant— my many faults and derelictions, 38* The light touches, on my
I remember I said to myself at the winter-close, before my leaves sprang at all, that I would become
a candid and unloosed summer-poet, I said I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to
what was promised, When each part is peopled with free people, When there is no city on earth to lead my
I have pressed through in my own right, I have offered my style to every one—I have jour- neyed journeyed
Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.
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!
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?
O MY children! O mates!
O my body!
, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)
songs in sex, Offspring of my loins. 13.
voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.
O blossoms of my blood!
face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press
CITY of my walks and joys!
my likeness!
, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my
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-
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
36 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my
alarmed, uncertain, This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my
home in Kanuck woods, Or wandering and hunting, my drink water, my diet meat, Or withdrawn to muse and
In the Year 80 of The States, My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air, Born
Take my leaves, America!
My comrade!
steamers steaming through my poems!
, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs
my bare-stript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.
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 longings for my dear home! O soft and sunny airs! O pensive!
O my Soul! O lips becoming tremulous, powerless! O centuries, centuries yet ahead!
myself make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, I reject none, accept all, reproduce all in my
Have you studied out MY LAND, its idioms and men?
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
Will it absorb into me as I absorb food, air, nobility, meanness—to appear again in my strength, gait
own Soul or defiled my body, I have claimed nothing to myself which I have not carefully claimed for
untrodden and mouldy—I see no longer any axe upon it, I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of my
I do not vaunt my love for you, I have what I have. The axe leaps!
response, Take what I have then, (saying fain,) take the pay you approached for, Take the white tears of my
COME closer to me, Push closer, my lovers, and take the best I possess, Yield closer and closer, and
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 outlawed 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
friendly companions, I intend to reach them my hand, and make as much of them as I do of men and women
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 me flies, suspended,
, 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
ever united lands —my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made one identity, any more
and let one line of my poems contradict another! Let the people sprawl with yearning aimless hands!
Let him who is without my poems be assassinated!
WITH antecedents, With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages, With all which, had
In the name of These States, and in your and my name, the Past, And in the name of These States, and
in your and my name, the Present time.
SPLENDOR of falling day, floating and filling me, Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past, Inflating 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- colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!
sailed down the Mississippi, As I wandered over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have looked through my
sake, Of departing—of the growth of a mightier race than any yet, Of myself, soon, perhaps, closing up my
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
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
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!)
I am de- termined determined to press my way toward you, Sound your voice!
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
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
ALL day I have walked the city, and talked with my friends, and thought of prudence, Of time, space,
do not doubt there is more in myself than I have supposed—and more in all men and women— and more in my
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
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
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