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visionary is not necessarily the same as being a prophet, and Whitman was a visionary: "I am afoot with my
reprinted as Some Personal and Old-Age Jottings in the February 28, 1891 issue of The Critic, in Good-Bye My
so turbulent that it is even said that his amiable partner used to chase the author of “Pelham” and “My
To my knowledge it is understood by Col. M ULFORD , Major John E.
In my opinion the Secretary has taken and obstinately held a position of cold-blooded policy, (that is
B UTLER , in my opinion, has also incorporated in the question of exchange a needless amount of personal
In my opinion, the anguish and death of these ten to fifteen thousand American young men, with all the
. / I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women" (1855, p. 64).
See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one
Until you can explain a paving stone, to every ones my perfect satisfaction O Priests , do not try to
. / I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women" (1855, p. 64).;
See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one
Leaves of Grass, Whitman confidently anticipated that in a "few years . . . the average annual call for my
necessitated a level of pride equal to the enormous task of an American poetry: "I know perfectly well my
own egotism," he admits, "[k]now my omnivorous lines and must not write any less."
avowedly chant 'the great pride of man in himself,' and permit it to be more or less a motif of nearly all my
My address: 231 S. Ashland Ave, Chicago, Ill.
The Winding-Up" (a revision of "The End of All"), "We Shall All Rest at Last," "Fame's Vanity," and "My
A Parody," "Death of the Nature-Lover" (revision of "My Departure"), "The Play-Ground," "Ode," "The House
In that work Whitman stated with disarming frankness, "I have not gain'd the acceptance of my own time
Besides, is not the verse-field, as originally plann'd by my theory, now sufficiently illustrated—and
—(indeed amid no loud call or market for my sort of poetic utterance.)
defiance, to that kind of well-put interrogation, here comes this little cluster, and conclusion of my
collated, it is worth printing (certainly I have nothing fresh to write)—I while away the hours of my
72d year—hours of forced confinement in my den—by putting in shape this small old age collation: Last
He swears to his art, I will not be meddlesome, I will not have in my writing any elegance or effect
What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition.
You shall stand by my side and look in the mirror with me.
Is it uniform with my country? Are its disposals without ignominious distinctions?
what answers for me an American must answer for any individual or nation that serves for a part of my
Whitman included this preface in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) as Preface to a volume of essays and tales
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
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
"My Voice Goes After What My Eyes Cannot Reach": Pragmatic Language and the Making of a Democratic Mythology
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
to balance them at last, My knowledge my live parts....it keeping tally with the meaning of things,
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, and my women and household and intimates, Now the performer
, Depriving me of my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes and holding me by the bare waist,
On the minus side, however, Pound long felt that Whitman, although he was "to my fatherland . . . what
The let up & somewhat favorable condition mentioned in my letter of Sunday still continues.
Complete in body and dilate in spirit, / Be thou my God" ("Gods") or when in the 1855 version of "Song
of Myself" he called God "a loving bedfellow [who] sleeps at my side all night and close on the peep
But renewing the old fires of the rebellion was not to my taste.
I know it is attainable because I experienced brief moments when it almost created itself under my pen
Other Polish responses to Whitman's "Poets to Come" besides translations In my research into Polish readings
Yesterday forenoon Deputy Superintendent Folk requested each of the Captains under his command to report
At the hour appointed, however, each of the Captains were presented with a copy of Mr.
It was understood that if Captain Powers did not call the roll of the 11th ward, the Assistant Captain
Captain Powers however called the names as usual, and everything passed off smoothly.
The 14th ward men still hold out against the new regime, but obey the Captain's orders.
The returns of the Captains who have submitted to the new law were first sent in, and as they were addressed
I will make my returns in this manner as long as the Mayor says so.
Deputy —The Mayor is not my boss, nor yours. Capt. P. —Well, the Mayor's my boss.
—I'm going to put my returns there as usual, if you throw me out as well as them.
Captains Powers and King afterwards went to the Mayor as on Saturday, and detailed to him the result
Whitman recited "John Anderson, my Jo, John."
"What's all this about, my boy?"
"Is it a patent of nobility, or is it an address from a lot of my young friends?"
My paralysis has made me so lame lately that I had to give up even my walks for health, let alone my
rambles in the country, and my constitution has suffered for exercise.
TO EASE MY DECLINING YEARS.
"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! take them South, and take them North! Surround them, East and West!
"O my comrade! O you and me at last, and us two only! O to level occupations and the sexes!
If he worships any particular thing, he says it shall be "some of the spread of my own body."
One long passage commences thus: "O my body!
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, The most prejudiced will not deny that that
bit of pathos—indubitably human—in my eye, confess now am I not a man and a brother?"
place, with my own day, here."
my dwell- dwelling .)"
'O the life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh.'
my South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!"
my South!O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!"
Lines written by the deceased, months previous to his death: “Weep not for me, my Charlotte dear, for
I am better off; For I am sure you knew my sufferings here, and what a dreadful cough; But God has taken
"I resist anything better than my own diversity," says Whitman in "Song of Myself" (section 16).
"So my friends tell me, but I never met him." "Don't you think, Mr.
results—and I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death; And I will thread a thread through my
succeeding poem, we have him clearly in trance, and the impressing spirit speaking through him:— Take my
see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, Do not weep for me, This is not my
Here is one which again proclaims his purpose:— I stand in my place, with my own day, here.
And what are my miracles? 2.
side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms and neck.
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!
President Lincoln's Funeral Hymn O Captain! My Captain! (for the Death of Lincoln) Pioneers!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! (F OR THE EATH OF INCOLN CAPTAIN ! my Captain! our fearful trip is done!
Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!
my Captain! rise up and hear the bells! Rise up!
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still: My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
.; ∗ The reader will share my wish that Whitman had written sanctus spiritus, which is right, instead
The recherché or ethereal sense of the term, as used in my book, arises probably from the actual Calamus
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!
Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it; I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-
This poem later appeared as "Calamus No. 40," Leaves of Grass (1860); as "That Shadow My Likeness," Leaves
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
light, But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of gold-colored light, From my
withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip my
clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh
I do not see any of it upon you today—or per- haps perhaps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my
plough—I will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some
That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues!
Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the woman can come the poems of man — only thence have my
my soul!
my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision.
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the can- non cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household, intimates, Now the performer launches
without shame or the need of shame Air, soil, water, fire, these are words, I myself am a word with them—my
qualities interpenetrate with theirs—my name is noth- ing nothing to them, Though it were told in the
three thousand lan- guages languages , what would air, soil, water, fire, know of my name?
When I undertake to tell the best, I find I can- not cannot , My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots,
My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man.
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!
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!
and let one line of my poem contradict another! Let the people sprawl with yearning aimless hands!
Let him who is without my poems be assas- sinated assassinated !
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
ALL day I have walked the city and talked with my friends, and thought of prudence, Of time, space, reality—of
COME closer to me, Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess, Yield closer and closer, and give
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
this day just as much in love with them as you, Then I am eternally 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
curious, breath- ing breathing , laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them, to touch any one, to rest my
As I see my soul reflected in nature, as I see through a mist, one with inexpressible com- pleteness
O my body!
are to stand or fall with the likes of the soul, I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my
instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel, All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my
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
I do not refuse you my hand, or prefer others before you, I do not say one word against you.
way myself, I find my home wherever there are any homes of men.