Walt Whitman

(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892 / New York / United States)

Walt Whitman Poems

361. I Sing The Body Electric 12/31/2002
362. The Sleepers 12/31/2002
363. When Lilacs Last In The Dooryard Bloom'D 1/3/2003
364. Out Of The Rolling Ocean, The Crowd 12/31/2002
365. In Midnight Sleep 12/31/2002
366. Song Of Myself, X 1/20/2003
367. A Song Of Joys 12/19/2014
368. A Sight In Camp 12/31/2002
369. Had I The Choice 1/3/2003
370. I Dream'D In A Dream 12/31/2002
371. On The Beach At Night 12/31/2002
372. A Riddle Song 12/31/2002
373. Song Of Myself, I 1/20/2003
374. A Promise To California 12/31/2002
375. Song Of The Open Road 12/31/2002
376. A Farm-Picture 12/31/2002
377. Leaves Of Grass. A Carol Of Harvest For 1867 12/31/2002
378. Beautiful Women 12/31/2002
379. A Hand-Mirror 12/31/2002
380. Miracles 12/31/2002
381. 1861 12/31/2002
382. O Me! O Life! 12/31/2002
383. I Hear America Singing 12/31/2002
384. A Woman Waits For Me 12/31/2002
385. All Is Truth 12/31/2002
386. A Glimpse 12/31/2002
387. A Song 12/31/2002
388. A Child's Amaze 12/31/2002
389. To A Stranger 12/31/2002
390. A Noiseless Patient Spider 12/31/2002
391. A Child Said, What Is The Grass? 1/20/2003
392. A Clear Midnight 12/31/2002
393. O Captain! My Captain! 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Walt Whitman

O Captain! My Captain!


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 ...

Read the full of O Captain! My Captain!

Camps Of Green


NOT alone those camps of white, O soldiers,
When, as order'd forward, after a long march,
Footsore and weary, soon as the light lessen'd, we halted for the
night;
Some of us so fatigued, carrying the gun and knapsack, dropping
asleep in our tracks;
Others pitching the little tents, and the fires lit up began to
sparkle;

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