Walt Whitman

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

Walt Whitman Poems

81. What General Has A Good Army 12/31/2002
82. To A Western Boy 12/31/2002
83. Wandering At Morn 12/31/2002
84. To The States 12/31/2002
85. The Sobbing Of The Bells 12/31/2002
86. To The Reader At Parting 12/31/2002
87. To The Garden The World 12/31/2002
88. This Day, O Soul 12/31/2002
89. Unfolded Out Of The Folds 12/31/2002
90. Unnamed Lands 12/31/2002
91. To Foreign Lands 12/31/2002
92. To A Historian 12/31/2002
93. To A Pupil 12/31/2002
94. This Compost 12/31/2002
95. The Torch 12/31/2002
96. To Him That Was Crucified 12/31/2002
97. These, I, Singing In Spring 12/31/2002
98. To The East And To The West 12/31/2002
99. To Thee, Old Cause! 12/31/2002
100. Warble Of Lilac-Time 12/31/2002
101. This Moment, Yearning And Thoughtful 12/31/2002
102. The Singer In The Prison 12/31/2002
103. Voices 12/31/2002
104. What Best I See In Thee 12/31/2002
105. Think Of The Soul 12/31/2002
106. To Old Age 12/31/2002
107. The Unexpressed 1/3/2003
108. Thought 12/31/2002
109. Thoughts 12/31/2002
110. The Wound Dresser 1/1/2004
111. The Prairie States 12/31/2002
112. To One Shortly To Die 12/31/2002
113. To A President 12/31/2002
114. What Am I, After All? 12/31/2002
115. To A Common Prostitute 12/31/2002
116. Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life 12/31/2002
117. The Prairie-Grass Dividing 12/31/2002
118. To You 12/31/2002
119. We Two Boys Together Clinging 12/31/2002
120. The Untold Want 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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