Walt Whitman

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

Walt Whitman Poems

281. Carol Of Words 12/31/2002
282. Poets To Come 12/31/2002
283. Come Up From The Fields, Father 12/31/2002
284. Camps Of Green 12/31/2002
285. Drum-Taps 12/31/2002
286. One's Self I Sing 12/31/2002
287. For Him I Sing 12/31/2002
288. Hours Continuing Long 12/31/2002
289. Gliding Over All 12/31/2002
290. Or From That Sea Of Time 12/31/2002
291. As I Lay With Head In Your Lap, Camerado 12/31/2002
292. Who Learns My Lesson Complete? 12/31/2002
293. An Army Corps On The March 12/31/2002
294. Out Of The Rolling Ocean, The Crowd 12/31/2002
295. Portals 12/31/2002
296. Look Down, Fair Moon 12/31/2002
297. Whoever You Are, Holding Me Now In Hand 12/31/2002
298. Reconciliation 12/31/2002
299. I Am He That Aches With Love 12/31/2002
300. Laws For Creations 12/31/2002
301. Tears 12/31/2002
302. I Thought I Was Not Alone 12/31/2002
303. As I Walk These Broad, Majestic Days 12/31/2002
304. Spontaneous Me 12/31/2002
305. By The Bivouac's Fitful Flame 12/31/2002
306. Old Ireland 12/31/2002
307. Mannahatta 12/31/2002
308. American Feuillage 12/31/2002
309. Ah Poverties, Wincings Sulky Retreats 12/31/2002
310. Come, Said My Soul 1/3/2003
311. As The Time Draws Nigh 12/31/2002
312. As If A Phantom Caress'D Me 12/31/2002
313. The Imprisoned Soul 1/4/2003
314. As Adam, Early In The Morning 12/31/2002
315. That Music Always Round Me 12/31/2002
316. Sometimes With One I Love 12/31/2002
317. Here, Sailor 12/31/2002
318. Ashes Of Soldiers 12/31/2002
319. How Solemn As One By One 12/31/2002
320. Song Of Myself, XI 1/20/2003

Comments about Walt Whitman

  • Aj Meunier (3/22/2012 10:54:00 PM)

    i love witman hes my fave poet

    99 person liked.
    125 person did not like.
  • Silviu Ciocan (1/8/2010 1:46:00 AM)

    ...and Borges read and like very much Whitman.

    99 person liked.
    148 person did not like.
  • Poet Hunter (7/6/2009 12:19:00 AM)

    'For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you' - Walt Whitman was way ahead of his time when he wrote 'Leaves of Grass' and it seems, for some, he is still way ahead of the times. Great poet! !

    119 person liked.
    100 person did not like.
  • Ben Dover (3/11/2008 7:56:00 AM)

    nice beard..wanker
    go walt

    147 person liked.
    77 person did not like.
  • Indigo Hawkins (2/15/2008 4:25:00 PM)

    Whitman is such a hedonist. I love him for it.

    22 person liked.
    40 person did not like.
  • Riquetta Elliott (10/10/2007 10:44:00 AM)

    Walt Whitman is a genuine poet because he writes his expression freely about his sentiments. He don't have to rhyme to make his poetry meaningful. He has a free verse to make it meaningful and understanding.

    20 person liked.
    23 person did not like.
  • Zubyre Parvez Zubyre Parvez (1/22/2007 12:15:00 PM)

    I love Walt Whitman, he writes with the grand air and he encompasses variety, he isn't staring down a microscope though he has the attentiveness of any detail-orientated person. It's his emotional heart centre at work ant its very magical. It's that which makes his writing expansive and gives us a feeling of exuberance. He's not an intellectual, but a Lover.

    Alot of contemporary poetry since the classics seems homely and nice, domestic etc, but its really the grand stuff such as Eternity that gives the classical poets their grand airs. And their poetry lasts...they are concerned with the foundations and posterity and the long term...they care about life after them and they care about their forefathers, their country, their people, they just love, that's all.

    There's been a trend in the contemporary poets to be banal, like Phillip Larkin, and its a direct product of being in a godless world, and the literati push for the banal and disordered thinking of the modernists and postmodernists, so that now the national poets who work towards unity, spirituality and grand narratives (something healthy and good) are pushed to the sidelines. Yet post-structuralism and so much modern theory has destroyed the traditional sublime arts which are limitless in their level of beauty and art can is a pursuit of perfection.
    I dunno but Rumi mighta reached a level of beauty in his poetry that musta been supreme this side of the galaxy!

    walt whitman was a national poet and he was a traditional sage. He preserved the forms of his forefathers, and he is writing within a tradition, he has a strong sense of place and he is connected to the larger picture and yet his individuality is very pronounced.
    He has his launchpad his womb of history and ancestory, and he flies his rocket.
    Goethe was a rooted traveller and explorer of life so is Whitman.

    15 person liked.
    19 person did not like.
  • Lonely Eye (3/3/2006 2:49:00 PM)

    the more knowing we have of whatever it may be perpetuates the unknown to which we must look to discover
    as when it is life that has been lived to its utmost we shall graciously enter into death for not the end but the beginning of what is unknown

    11 person liked.
    18 person did not like.
  • Alicia Hodkin (12/8/2005 11:02:00 AM)

    At the beginning of the poem, Whitman is filled with anguish and depression. He's so depressed and deperate that it's causing pain. He's pouring out all the emotion that's built up inside of him. Since he's been in anguish he takes a good look at himself and doesn't even recognize who he's become. During the day he acts as though it's a mundane way of life, but in the night, when no one's looking, his emotion is desperately pouring out like the ocean.

    10 person liked.
    23 person did not like.
  • Amanda Patrick (12/8/2005 11:01:00 AM)

    In the poem, 'Tears, ' Whitman is very depressed. He talks about crying on the shore of the beach and just letting himself go. He doesn't know who he is anymore. He talks about how he is calm during the day and doesn't show his inner feelings, and how at night he becomes very depressed again without any one knowing.

    9 person liked.
    17 person did not like.
Best Poem of Walt Whitman

A Clear Midnight

THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, death and the stars.

Read the full of A Clear Midnight

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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