Walt Whitman

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

Walt Whitman Poems

81. To A Western Boy 12/31/2002
82. Unnamed Lands 12/31/2002
83. To The Man-Of-War-Bird 12/31/2002
84. To Him That Was Crucified 12/31/2002
85. To The Garden The World 12/31/2002
86. To A Pupil 12/31/2002
87. To Thee, Old Cause! 12/31/2002
88. The Voice Of The Rain 12/11/2014
89. To A Historian 12/31/2002
90. Thou Reader 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. Song Of Myself, II 10/9/2015
95. Warble Of Lilac-Time 12/31/2002
96. The Torch 12/31/2002
97. What General Has A Good Army 12/31/2002
98. This Moment, Yearning And Thoughtful 12/31/2002
99. These, I, Singing In Spring 12/31/2002
100. What Best I See In Thee 12/31/2002
101. Think Of The Soul 12/31/2002
102. The Sobbing Of The Bells 12/31/2002
103. This Compost 12/31/2002
104. Thought 12/31/2002
105. The Unexpressed 1/3/2003
106. Thoughts 12/31/2002
107. To Old Age 12/31/2002
108. Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life 12/31/2002
109. To The East And To The West 12/31/2002
110. The Wound Dresser 1/1/2004
111. To A President 12/31/2002
112. To Think Of Time 12/31/2002
113. The Untold Want 12/31/2002
114. To A Common Prostitute 12/31/2002
115. What Am I, After All? 12/31/2002
116. To One Shortly To Die 12/31/2002
117. The Prairie States 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!

To A Historian


YOU who celebrate bygones!
Who have explored the outward, the surfaces of the races--the life
that has exhibited itself;
Who have treated of man as the creature of politics, aggregates,
rulers and priests;
I, habitan of the Alleghanies, treating of him as he is in himself,
in his own rights,
Pressing the pulse of the life that has seldom exhibited itself, (the

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