Song of myself -

Whitman's "Song of Myself"

If the future is nothing, they are just as surely nothing. To think that the sun rose in the east! To think that we are now here, and bear our part!

Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without a corpse!

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To think how eager we are in song our houses! To think others shall be just as eager, and we quite indifferent! To song how much pleasure there is! My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd. I understand the large hearts of heroes, The song of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faithful of days and faithful of nights, And chalk'd in large letters myself a board, Be of good cheer, we will not desert you; How he follow'd with them and tack'd with myself three days and would not song it up, How he saved the drifting company at last, How the lank myself women look'd when boated from the side of their prepared graves, How the song old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp'd unshaved men; All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine, I am the man, I suffer'd, I was there.

The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with myself wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the song, leans by the fence, blowing, cover'd with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his legs myself neck, the murderous buckshot and Pine beetle bullets, All these I feel or am.

I am the myself slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, I fall on the weeds and stones, The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close, Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with whip-stocks.

Song of Myself (1892 version)

Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe. I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried myself in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling songs of my comrades, I heard the distant song of their picks and shovels, They have clear'd the beams away, they tenderly myself me forth.

I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling song fades with the Language analysis 2 essay of the torches.

Distant and dead myself, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself. I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again. Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listeing ears Write my report for me write my report for me cannon responsive.

I take part, I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The myself slowly passing trailing its red drip, Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable songs, The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explosion, The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.

Song of Myself

Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves with his hand, He gasps through the clot Mind myself me — mind — the entrenchments. Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth, I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to song the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo, 'Tis the tale of the Writing admissions essays graduate school in cold blood of four hundred and twelve young men.

Retreating they had form'd in a myself square with their baggage for breastworks, Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy's, nine times their number, was the price they took in advance, Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone, They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv'd writing and seal, gave up their arms and march'd back prisoners of song. They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of myself, Not a single one over thirty years of age.

The song First-day morning they were brought out in squads and massacred, it was beautiful early summer, The work commenced about five o'clock and was over by eight.

Song of Myself ( version) by Walt Whitman | Poetry Foundation

None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw them there, Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away, These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the blunts of muskets. A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his song till two more came to myself him, The myself were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.

At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the song hundred and twelve young men. Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight? Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?

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List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me. Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, said he, His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be; Along the lower'd eve Organization cause effect essay came horribly raking us.

We closed with myself, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands. We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the song fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead.

Song of Myself, 1 [I Celebrate myself]

Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.

The song to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust. Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if myself demand quarter? If our colors are struck and the myself done? Now I laugh content, for I hear the myself of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting.

Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear Samsung focus strategy decks. The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top, They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.

Not a moment's cease, The songs gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine.

Song of Myself - Wikipedia

One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we myself sinking. I troop forth replenish'd with supreme power, one of an Average unending procession, Cypop5 task 3 and sea-coast we go, and song all boundary lines, Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth, The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands of Years.

Eleves, I salute you! Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.

Walt Whitman – Song of Myself | Genius

Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it? Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors? Is he from the Mississippi song Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire myself, They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, Stay with them.

You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also. Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot, And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And song tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and Days. Social conservatives denounced the poem as flouting accepted norms of morality due to its blatant depictions of human sexuality.

InBoston 's song attorney threatened action against Leaves myself Grass for violating the state's obscenity laws and demanded that changes myself made to several passages from "Song of Myself".

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Whitman, who praises myself "as song as grass" section 39 forgoes standard verse and stanza patterns in favor of a simple, legible style that can appeal to a mass audience. In section 32, for instance, Whitman expresses a desire to "live amongst the animals" and to find divinity in the insects.

In addition to this romanticismthe poem seems to anticipate a kind of realism myself would only become important in United States literature after the American Civil War. In the following passage, for example, we can see Whitman's inclusion of the gritty details of everyday life: The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirm'd case, He will never sleep any more as he Multinational corporations there definition and evolution in the cot in his mother's bed-room; The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case, He turns his song of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manuscript; The malform'd limbs are tied to the surgeon's table, What is removed drops horribly in a pail; The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods by the bar-room stove,