Walt Whitman

Whitman Background

Click on the link above and connect to the background article "About Walt Whitman;" take notes on what you consider to be pertinent Whitman information.  Consider what linked him to Transcendentalism but what set him apart from other authors and men of the time.

 O Captain! My Captain! was Whitman's elegy to Abraham Lincoln, a man from whom the poet had much respect. It will also be important in our analysis of Dead Poets Society.  First, read the text. Then break it apart as you would any other poem we have addressed.  Keep in mind historical context as well as literary and poetic device. Note, too, the variance in his meter.....as it has power and purpose. Please be sure to look up any words of which you may be unsure as related to the Ship Conceit/Extended Metaphor. This analysis does not have to be done in paragraph format.  Just make notations on the poem provided and add notes to the bottom/margin/back of the page to prove your focused work.

If you have not completed both background and analysis, it is homework.  Be prepared to turn it in first thing tomorrow.

Walt Whitman (1819–1892).  Leaves of Grass.  1900. 

193. O Captain! My Captain! 

1 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!	5
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
2 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 ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,	15
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
3 My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;	20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.