Walt Whitman

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

Walt Whitman Poems

81. To Him That Was Crucified 12/31/2002
82. To A Certain Civilian 12/31/2002
83. To A Foil'D European Revolutionaire 12/31/2002
84. What General Has A Good Army 12/31/2002
85. Wandering At Morn 12/31/2002
86. To A Pupil 12/31/2002
87. The Sobbing Of The Bells 12/31/2002
88. To Thee, Old Cause! 12/31/2002
89. Thought 12/31/2002
90. To A Historian 12/31/2002
91. Voices 12/31/2002
92. This Day, O Soul 12/31/2002
93. The Singer In The Prison 12/31/2002
94. To Foreign Lands 12/31/2002
95. The Torch 12/31/2002
96. To The Garden The World 12/31/2002
97. These, I, Singing In Spring 12/31/2002
98. What Best I See In Thee 12/31/2002
99. Think Of The Soul 12/31/2002
100. To The East And To The West 12/31/2002
101. The Voice Of The Rain 12/11/2014
102. This Compost 12/31/2002
103. The Unexpressed 1/3/2003
104. What Am I, After All? 12/31/2002
105. Thoughts 12/31/2002
106. Song Of Myself, II 10/9/2015
107. This Moment, Yearning And Thoughtful 12/31/2002
108. Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life 12/31/2002
109. To One Shortly To Die 12/31/2002
110. Warble Of Lilac-Time 12/31/2002
111. The Wound Dresser 1/1/2004
112. To A President 12/31/2002
113. To Old Age 12/31/2002
114. To Think Of Time 12/31/2002
115. The Untold Want 12/31/2002
116. The Prairie States 12/31/2002
117. To A Common Prostitute 12/31/2002
118. To You 12/31/2002
119. To A Locomotive In Winter 12/31/2002
120. What Think You I Take My Pen In Hand? 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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