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Walt Whitman - Best 3 Funeral Poems [Includes PDF & Audio]
Experience the emotive intensity of Walt Whitman's verse in our collection of four significant funeral poems. This dedicated page invites you to journey through Whitman's poignant exploration of grief, consolation, and the enduring connections of love beyond loss.
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1) Good-Bye, My Fancy!
Please note the audio recording may not exactly match the text version as poems are sometimes tailored/personalised.
Good-bye my Fancy!
Farewell dear mate, dear love!
I‘m going away, I know not where,
Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again,
So Good-bye my Fancy.
Now for my last – let me look back a moment;
The slower fainter ticking of the clock is in me,
Exit, nightfall, and soon the heart-thud stopping.
Long have we lived, joy‘d, carress‘d together;
Delightful! – now separation – Good-bye my Fancy.
Yet let me not be too hasty,
Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter‘d, become really blended into one;
Then if we die we die together, (Yes, we‘ll remain one,)
If we go anywhere we‘ll go together to meet what happens,
May-be we‘ll be better off and blither, and learn something,
May-be it is yourself now really ushering me to the true songs, (who knows?)
May-be it is you the mortal knob really undoing, turning – so now finally,
Good-bye – and hail! my Fancy.
Farewell dear mate, dear love!
I‘m going away, I know not where,
Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again,
So Good-bye my Fancy.
Now for my last – let me look back a moment;
The slower fainter ticking of the clock is in me,
Exit, nightfall, and soon the heart-thud stopping.
Long have we lived, joy‘d, carress‘d together;
Delightful! – now separation – Good-bye my Fancy.
Yet let me not be too hasty,
Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter‘d, become really blended into one;
Then if we die we die together, (Yes, we‘ll remain one,)
If we go anywhere we‘ll go together to meet what happens,
May-be we‘ll be better off and blither, and learn something,
May-be it is yourself now really ushering me to the true songs, (who knows?)
May-be it is you the mortal knob really undoing, turning – so now finally,
Good-bye – and hail! my Fancy.
Read more about this poem
2) Darest Thou Now O Soul
Please note the audio recording may not exactly match the text version as poems are sometimes tailored/personalised.
Darest thou now O soul,
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?
No map there, nor guide,
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.
I know it not O soul,
Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us,
All waits undream‘d of in that region, that inaccessible land.
Till when the ties loosen,
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us.
Then we burst forth, we float,
In Time and Space O soul, prepared for them,
Equal, equipt at last, (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil O soul
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?
No map there, nor guide,
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.
I know it not O soul,
Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us,
All waits undream‘d of in that region, that inaccessible land.
Till when the ties loosen,
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us.
Then we burst forth, we float,
In Time and Space O soul, prepared for them,
Equal, equipt at last, (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil O soul
Read more about this poem
3) The Last Invocation
Please note the audio recording may not exactly match the text version as poems are sometimes tailored/personalised.
At the last, tenderly,
From the walls of the powerful fortress‘d house,
From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors,
Let me be wafted.
Let me glide noiselessly forth;
With the key of softness unlock the locks – with a whisper,
Set ope the doors O soul.
Tenderly – be not impatient,
(Strong is your hold O mortal flesh,
Strong is your hold O love.)
From the walls of the powerful fortress‘d house,
From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors,
Let me be wafted.
Let me glide noiselessly forth;
With the key of softness unlock the locks – with a whisper,
Set ope the doors O soul.
Tenderly – be not impatient,
(Strong is your hold O mortal flesh,
Strong is your hold O love.)
Read more about this poem
History & Information about poet Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman was an American poet, essayist, and journalist born on May 31, 1819, in West Hills, Long Island, New York. He was the second of nine children, and his family was of modest means.
Whitman's early education was sporadic, but he developed a love of literature and writing at a young age. He began working as a printer's apprentice at the age of 12 and later became a journalist, writing for newspapers in New York City and Brooklyn.
In 1855, Whitman published his first edition of "Leaves of Grass," a groundbreaking collection of poetry that celebrated the beauty of nature, the human body, and the diversity of American culture. The book was met with mixed reviews and was considered controversial due to its overtly sexual and homoerotic themes.
Despite the initial criticism, "Leaves of Grass" went on to become one of the most influential works of poetry in American literature. Whitman's unique style, characterized by free verse, unconventional syntax, and use of long lines, broke with traditional poetic forms and paved the way for modernist poetry.
Whitman continued to revise and expand "Leaves of Grass" throughout his life, publishing several new editions and adding new poems. His later works, including "Drum-Taps" and "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd," were written in response to the American Civil War and the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.
Walt Whitman died on March 26, 1892, at the age of 72, in Camden, New Jersey. His funeral was a simple affair, attended by family and friends. He is remembered as one of the most significant poets in American literature and a champion of individualism, democracy, and the beauty of the natural world.
Whitman's early education was sporadic, but he developed a love of literature and writing at a young age. He began working as a printer's apprentice at the age of 12 and later became a journalist, writing for newspapers in New York City and Brooklyn.
In 1855, Whitman published his first edition of "Leaves of Grass," a groundbreaking collection of poetry that celebrated the beauty of nature, the human body, and the diversity of American culture. The book was met with mixed reviews and was considered controversial due to its overtly sexual and homoerotic themes.
Despite the initial criticism, "Leaves of Grass" went on to become one of the most influential works of poetry in American literature. Whitman's unique style, characterized by free verse, unconventional syntax, and use of long lines, broke with traditional poetic forms and paved the way for modernist poetry.
Whitman continued to revise and expand "Leaves of Grass" throughout his life, publishing several new editions and adding new poems. His later works, including "Drum-Taps" and "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd," were written in response to the American Civil War and the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.
Walt Whitman died on March 26, 1892, at the age of 72, in Camden, New Jersey. His funeral was a simple affair, attended by family and friends. He is remembered as one of the most significant poets in American literature and a champion of individualism, democracy, and the beauty of the natural world.
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