a·bey·ance
əˈbāəns/
noun
- a state of temporary disuse or suspension."matters were held in abeyance pending further inquiries"
synonyms: in suspension, in a state of suspension, in a state of dormancy, in a state of uncertainty, in remission;
ef·fuse
iˈfyo͞oz,iˈfyo͞os/
verb
ransitive verb
- : to pour out (a liquid)
intransitive verb
- 1: to flow out : emanate
- 2: to make a great or excessive display of enthusiasm <they effused about his accomplishments>
- 3: give off (a liquid, light, smell, or quality)
- 4: talk in an unrestrained, excited manner."this was the type of material that they effused about"
Song of Myself (1892 version)
1
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as
good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing
a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood,
form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from
parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in
perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at
what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to
speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original
energy.
52
The spotted hawk swoops by
and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.
I too am not a bit tamed,
I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp
over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of day
holds back for me,
It flings my likeness
after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor
and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake
my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in
eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the
dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look
for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who
I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good
health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your
blood.
Failing to fetch me at
first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search
another,
I stop somewhere waiting
for you.
O Captain My Captain
a poem by Walt Whitman
a poem by Walt Whitman
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is
done,
The ship has weathered 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 ribboned 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 anchored 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.
The ship has weathered 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 ribboned 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 anchored 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.
· 1) The “Captain” is Abraham Lincoln.
· 2) Does the
poem have a positive or negative tone toward Lincoln? List some words that
reveal the tone.
· 3)What
event about Lincoln does this poem relate? What line tells you this?
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