O Captain! My Captain!, poetry by Walt Whitman

Image Credit: poetryfoundation.org

Walter "Walt" Whitman (May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892) was an American poet, essayist and journalist. He has been claimed as America's first "Poet of Democracy", a title meant to reflect his ability to write in a singularly American character. Whitman is among the most influential poets in America and often called the "Father of Free Verse," although he did not invent it. His work was very controversial in its time, particularly his poetry collection Leaves of Grass, which was described as obscene for its overt sexuality.

Whitman founded his own newspaper, The Long Islander, in Huntington, New York. He served as publisher, editor, pressman and distributor. After ten months, he sold the publication to E. O. Crowell. He first experimented with a variety of popular literary genres which appealed to the cultural tastes of the period. As early as 1850, he began writing what would become Leaves of Grass, a collection of poetry which he would continue editing and revising until his death. Whitman intended to write a distinctly American epic and used free verse with a cadence based on the Bible. His work breaks the boundaries of poetic form and is generally prose-like.

Whitman's sexual orientation is generally assumed to be homosexual or bisexual, on the basis of his poetry, though this assumption has been disputed. His poetry depicts love and sexuality in a more earthy, individualistic way common in American culture before the medicalization of sexuality in the late 19th century. Mary Smith Whitall Costelloe, a British friend of Walt Whitman, wrote: "You cannot really understand America without Walt Whitman, without Leaves of Grass." Whitman's poetry has been set to music by a large number of composers. His works included: Franklin Evans (1842), Leaves of Grass (1855, the first of seven editions through 1891), Drum-Taps (1865), Democratic Vistas (1871), Memoranda During the War (1876) and Specimen Days (1882). Enjoy Walt Whitman's classic poem, O Captain! My Captain!, as we celebrate National Poetry Month.

O Captain! My Captain!

by Walter "Walt" Whitman

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.