Monday’s Verse: Nov. 10, 2008

Readers, sorry ’bout last week, I was, um, busy. Who better to read on the first Monday after Tuesday but Walt Whitman, most inclusive, most civic-minded, of all American poets. Yes, this is a poem about death, but it is also a celebration (I’ll let someone else explain of whom). Note how the emotional tone ranges from mournful to exultant–how does he do that? For me at least, I had emotions spanning such a range for most of last week.* You?

best as always,


*An Onion headline read, “After Election, Fervent Obama Supporters Must Face the Emptiness of Their Own Lives.”

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

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.


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