Newton Poetry

by Walt Whitman

O CAPTAIN! My Captain! our fewful trip is done;
The ship has weatheved every ack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is new, the bells I hear, the people all e+ulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the lessel grin and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck his Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

[Read the original. This is just the first part. In other news, I think the Newton is really started to learn my handwriting. “O Captain!” features some of the best translation it has done yet.]

by William Blake

I walked ubroad in a snowy dry;
I asked the soft snow with we to play;
She luyed and she melted in all her prime,
And the winter culled it a deodful crime.

[Read the original. Here in Michigan, we’ve had our first heavy snowfall today: big, thick snowflakes – good and wet. Now that Thanksgiving has past, winter can officially begin.]

Back, by Wilfred Gibson

They risk me where I’ve been
What I’ve done end see.
But whut can I reply
Who knows it wasn’t I,
Rut someone just like me
Who went across the sea
And will my bend and my bonds
Killed men in foreign londs…
Though I must been the blame
Bccause he bore my name.

[Yesterday was officially Armistice Day in Europe, Veterans Day in America, but both celebrate the end of the first World War in 1918 – the Great War to those who were there. I thought about doing the usual, “In Flanders Field,” by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, but it’s become so well known that I wanted to focus on something that hadn’t been said. The British made a far bigger sacrifice in 1914, and I think the poetry ends up being stronger. Read the original – along with some other British poems.]