"O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won..."
O'Captain, My Captain is an extended matephor written by Walt Whitman in 1865 about the death of U.S. president Abraham Lincoln. The work was popular and critically well received on publication, soon becoming Whitman's first to be anthologized as well as the most popular during his lifetime. It was one of the four poems he wrote about the death of the president, alongside When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd, Hush'd Be the Camps To-day, and This Dust was Once the Man.
Walt Whitman was an American poet, essayist, journalist, and humanist. He was a part of the transition between Transcendentalism and realism, incorporating both views in his works. Whitman is among the most influential poets in the American canon, often called the father of free verse.
Walter Whitman Jr. was an American poet, essayist, and journalist. He is considered one of the most influential poets in American literature. Whitman incorporated both transcendentalism and realism in his writings and is often called the father of free verse. His work was controversial in his time, particularly his 1855 poetry collection Leaves of Grass, which was described by some as obscene for its overt sensuality. Whitman was born in Huntington on Long Island, and lived in Brooklyn as a child and through much of his career. At the age of 11, he left formal schooling to go to work. He worked as a journalist, a teacher, and a government clerk. Whitman's major poetry collection, Leaves of Grass, first published in 1855, was financed with his own money and became well known. The work was an attempt to reach out to the common person with an American epic. Whitman continued expanding and revising Leaves of Grass until his death in 1892. During the American Civil War, he went to Washington, D.C., and worked in hospitals caring for the wounded. His poetry often focused on both loss and healing. On the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, whom Whitman greatly admired, he authored two poems, "O Captain! My Captain!" and "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd", and gave a series of lectures on Lincoln. After suffering a stroke towards the end of his life, Whitman moved to Camden, New Jersey, where his health further declined. When he died at the age of 72, his funeral was a public event. Whitman's influence on poetry remains strong. Art historian Mary Berenson wrote, "You cannot really understand America without Walt Whitman, without Leaves of Grass... He has expressed that civilization, 'up to date,' as he would say, and no student of the philosophy of history can do without him." Modernist poet Ezra Pound called Whitman "America's poet... He is America."
The poem was written in 1865 as an extended metaphor tribute to the lost president, Abraham Lincoln. Whitman greatly admired Lincoln although they never met.
Included in the 1867 printing of Leaves of Grass it's an elegy to the fallen Abraham Lincoln. It reflects the writer's sadness and even despair at the death of the president and also "reflects" the feelings of much of the country.
The poem metaphorically speaks of the recent Civil War/State's War as a stormy sea the Captain has steered the ship (of state) through and safely to port. As all the people rejoice the writer walks the deck mourning his fallen captain.
One of many poems on the subject at the time it speaks well and carries the feeling of the events.
NI FU NI FA😰 • Es un pequeño libro recopilatorio de algunos de los poemas {selección a cargo de #ClaudioLópezDeLamadrid} de Walt Whitman. • A mí no me ha dicho mucho este recopilatorio, la verdad, entre que Whitman me ha parecido algo espesito a ratos, y que tenía algunas erratas y la traducción me vuelve a fallar {como me pasó con el de Bukowski}, pues no lo he disfrutado mucho. • ¿Qué encontraréis en este libro? Varios de los poemas más conocidos de unos de los precursores del verso libre. • Erratas encontradas: 7 {🤦🏻♀️ ¡psicoanalista ven a mí!} • FRASES SUBRAYADAS: • “Tú, lector, palpitante vida, orgullo y amor, lo mismo que yo, para ti, pues, los cantos que hay aquí.” • “Recuerdo una mañana límpida de estío: posabas la cabeza en mis rodillas, volviéndote con dulzura hacia mí, y entreabriste mi camisa, hundiendo tu lengua pecho adentro, hasta el corazón, y luego te alargaste y te adheriste a mí desde la barba hasta los pies.” • “Mar de bruñidas lejanías, mar de ancho jadeo convulso, mar que eres la sal de la vida y de las tumbas siempre abiertas para todos, mar que aúllas y te precipitas en las tormentas, mas, caprichoso y delicado, yo soy igual a ti. Yo también soy de una faz y tengo todas las faces.” • “Cuando rozo, palpo o siento con mis dedos, soy feliz. Y tocar otro cuerpo es algo que apenas puedo resistir.” • “Os conozco a todos, conozco los mares en borrasca, los mares de la angustia, de la duda, de la desesperación, de la incredulidad.” • “El sexo lo contiene todo: cuerpos y almas, ideas, pruebas, purezas, delicadezas, fines, difusiones, cantos, mandatos, salud, orgullo, el misterio de la maternidad, el semen [...]” • “[...] brazos y manos del amor, labios del amor, falo del amor, senos del amor, vientres que él amor aprieta uno contra el otro y los funde [...]” • #LeoYComparto #bookish #DimeUnLibro #bookaholic #PoesíaExtranjeraContemporánea
Y os digo que también es hermoso sucumbir, que las batallas se pierden con el mismo espíritu con que se ganan.
He escuchado muy buenos comentarios sobre Whitman. Tanto el poeta como su poesía continúan siendo admirados en la actualidad. Esta edición de bolsillo ha sido una lectura bastante ligera y refrescante tras haber leído Moby Dick. La razón principal por la que decidí leer a Whitman es la espectacular película llamada Dead Poets Society, en la cual se hacen continuas referencias a la poesía de Whitman, en especial a la famosa frase ¡Oh, capitán!, ¡mi capitán!.
La más pequeña hojita de hierba nos enseña que la muerte no existe; que si alguna vez existió, fue sólo para producir la vida; que no espera al final del camino para detenerla; que cesó en el instante de aparecer la vida.
En fin, ha sido una experiencia agradable que sin duda repetiría.
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
I first heard these lines in a classroom, watching Dead Poets Society film and they hit me as a kind of salute to a beloved teacher. I was young then, and I thought I understood them. It was only later, when I looked up the poem properly, that I learned Whitman wrote it for Abraham Lincoln after his assassination and that changed my perspective about this particular poem.
The thing about this poem is how it swings between celebration and devastation. The ship is safe and the journey is over, Everyone is cheering. And yet the speaker’s voice cracks right down the middle because the one person who should be there to share in the triumph is gone (who is their captain). You can feel Whitman holding back a sob, forcing himself to describe the crowds and the bells while his own heart is bleeding out on the page. That repetition of “heart! heart! heart!” gets me every time.
Four stars feels obvious because I'm not a avid reader of Poetry. I’m grateful to have found it, first through a film and then through history, and now through my own quiet readings late at night.
Te conocí tras la voz del profesor Keating y sus poetas muertos, seguiste apareciendo en mis lecturas tras pequeños retazos de tus frases y así decidí leerte.
Estos poemas fueron tan diversos, no hablaban simplemente del amor sino de la guerra, la muerte, el deseo, la humanidad.
¡Oh, rizada hierba, yo te trataré con amor! Quizá eres el vello que nace en el pecho de los adolescentes muertos, a quienes, habiéndolos conocido, habría amado
Superficial. Se limita a ser una breve compilación de poemas sin ningún orden aparente, y ni siquiera se han molestado en ofrecer contexto. No hay ni una introducción al autor, ni explicación del entorno histórico-literario. La selección es básica y sin propósito.
Esperaba al menos un prefacio que situara los poemas en su época con una breve explicación.
No la recomiendo: ofrece muy poco para quien realmente quiera acercarse a Whitman o comprender el significado de esos poemas.
Perfecto acercamiento para conocer qué ofrece Whitman -sus distintas voces-. Es cierto que tiene una espiritualidad marcadamente cristiana y que le excita impúdicamente la democracia estadounidense. Por suerte, también tiene una de esas sensibilidades conflictuadas, un modo propio de amar en sus versos, que por momentos te regala un instante de paz hasta que, de repente, se pone a hablar de cómo quiere dejar preñado a alguien. Ahora en serio, es un poeta tierno con algunos versos perfectos y algunos poemas un tanto vergonzosos -al menos, para mí. Eso sí, una vez lo terminas, no puedes ignorar ese resquemor de no haberlo leído en inglés. Seguro que gana enteros en su idioma original, aunque puede ser perfectamente una vana esperanza.
"But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead."
i hate this poem. not because it's bad, but because it's brilliantly sad. when i read it, i think of robin williams, and it just guts me. this poem is so memorable. it will be one of the best and one of my favorites forever.
Nos decimos: Recordad, no temáis, sed sinceros, mostrad el cuerpo y el alma, demorad un rato y pasad, sed copiosos, sobrios, castos, magnéticos, y que lo que ofrezcáis vuelva como vuelven las estaciones, y que sea como ellas.
Wasn`t bad...Wasn`t bad at all...But i think that the problem is in me though - I`ve never been a poetry lover...But I think I might get a little deeper in this :)
A tribute to the death of Abraham Lincoln "Oh Captain! My Captain! is one of Walt Whitman's standout poems. Filled with sadness and respect from start to finish it might be his most moving piece.
Personal Response: While I'm regularly not a poetry person, I decided to read Oh Captain! My Captain! and found it semi-entertaining. I really think that the author should have somehow incorporated how the captain died somewhere within the poem.
Plot Summary: A captain and his son (along with an assumed crew) are welcomed back from a voyage, and the captain dies. While there are definitely mentions of the captain dying, there is no mention of as to how he died. The townspeople then have a funeral for the captain, and throw bouquets and wreaths to his dead corpse to show their remorse. The son then states that he mourns his father's death as he sees his father, the captain, dead.
Characterization: There are two real characters within the poem: The captain and his son. The Captain: Because the captain dies, many people show up to his funeral. Because of this, we can assume that he was a very well known person. The poem states also states that there were bouquets and wreaths thrown to the shores to honor the man's death. He was a well-known person that died, and the town came to honor him within his last moment.
The Son: Throughout the poem, the Son refers to his father as both his Captain AND his father. This shows that he has a very strong respect for his father. The way that things are phrased throughout the poem makes me think that he feels a lot of remorse for his dead father.
Recommendations: I would recommend this poem to someone who regularly reads poetry. It's a quick poem that flows nicely. If you don't regularly read poetry, give it a read anyways. All in all, it's a pretty good poem.
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,
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, You've fallen cold and dead.
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; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead...
Acostumbro leer poemarios y marcar (con una banderita) aquellos textos que hicieron resonancia en mí, pero está vez, sólo puse un marcador en su portada; pues cada página en su interior bien merece distinción.
Suelo describir a la poesía como la única verdad que los hombres pueden (y a la vez no) poseer, sin embargo con Whitman no queda más que decir: que él fue uno de los inventores/renovadores de esa verdad, un patriarca, filántropo y panteísta en cada verso. Su cosmovisión (optimista) me cautivó.
Una lectura imprescindible para quien gusta de la poesía.
Tras escuchar a tantos poetas que uno de sus referentes era Walt Whitman, un día fue Whitman quien me encontró. Y era 21 de marzo, Día Mundial de la Poesía. Y el poemario por el que quería empezar.
Los últimos cinco o seis poemas serán de lo mejor que habréis leído y recitado en mucho tiempo (no sé vosotros pero yo si no leo en voz alta, no es lo mismo), os lo aseguro. Uno de ellos se titula: "Espontáneo yo" donde fusiona con tremenda dulzura y delicadeza los placeres de la naturaleza con los de la vida. Te deja reconfortada. Deja a su paso un destello de luz y de paz que hace que todo lo demás no exista. Consigue que te transportes a los escenarios que él mismo describe.
El poema que da nombre es simplemente apoteósico, brillante.
Lo reelería un millón de veces más para entenderlo mejor. Antes de "despedirme" os dejo con un par de versos que... mejor juzgad vosotros. 🥹🧩
[...] que el mundo no es un caos, que es forma, unidad, plan, vida eterna. ¡Alegría!
Ni sospecháis mi grandeza. No quiero decir quién soy en realidad.
What does a man feel when he's accomplished all the feats he has had to confront but has lost someone very important in the process? Whitman perfectly expresses this struggle in "Oh Captain! My Captain", where the external celebration of the surrounding people and ship crew contrasts his desperation for his dear captain's death. The entire poem however is metaphorically paying tribute to Abraham Lincoln, the leader of the Civil War, whose assassination is mourned in the heart of all those who lost the guide to their American voyage.
I didn’t know Goodreads had poems on it!!! I feel like I’m going to now annoyingly rate every poem I read. Safe to say, this poem is my phone wallpaper atm.