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Walt Whitman Poem Packet

Page history last edited by Russell 14 years, 2 months ago

Whitman Reader

 

Beginning my Studies

 

BEGINNING my studies, the first step pleas’d me so much,

 

The mere fact, consciousness—these forms—the power of motion,

 

The least insect or animal—the senses—eyesight—love;

 

The first step, I say, aw’d me and pleas’d me so much,

 

I have hardly gone, and hardly wish’d to go, any farther,

5

But stop and loiter all the time, to sing it in extatic songs.

 



A Noiseless Patient Spider

 

A NOISELESS, patient spider,

 

I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;

 

Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,

 

It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;

 

Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.

5

 

 

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,

 

Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,

 

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them;

 

Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold;

 

Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

10



From Paumanok Starting

 

FROM Paumanock starting, I fly like a bird,

 

Around and around to soar, to sing the idea of all;

 

To the north betaking myself, to sing there arctic songs,

 

To Kanada, till I absorb Kanada in myself—to Michigan then,

 

To Wisconsin, Iowa, Minnesota, to sing their songs, (they are inimitable;)

5

Then to Ohio and Indiana to sing theirs—to Missouri and Kansas and Arkansas, to sing theirs,

 

To Tennessee and Kentucky—to the Carolinas and Georgia, to sing theirs,

 

To Texas, and so along up toward California, to roam accepted everywhere;

 

To sing first, (to the tap of the war-drum, if need be,)

 

The idea of all—of the western world, one and inseparable.

10

And then the song of each member of These States.

 

 

I Hear America Singing

 

I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear;

 

Those of mechanics—each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;

 

The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,

 

The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;

 

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat—the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;

5

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench—the hatter singing as he stands;

 

The wood-cutter’s song—the ploughboy’s, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;

 

The delicious singing of the mother—or of the young wife at work—or of the girl sewing or washing—Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;

 

The day what belongs to the day—At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

 

Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.

10

 

A March in the Ranks, Hard-prest

 

A MARCH in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown;

 

A route through a heavy wood, with muffled steps in the darkness;

 

Our army foil’d with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating;

 

Till after midnight glimmer upon us, the lights of a dim-lighted building;

 

We come to an open space in the woods, and halt by the dim-lighted building;

5

’Tis a large old church at the crossing roads—’tis now an impromptu hospital;

 

—Entering but for a minute, I see a sight beyond all the pictures and poems ever made:

 

Shadows of deepest, deepest black, just lit by moving candles and lamps,

 

And by one great pitchy torch, stationary, with wild red flame, and clouds of smoke;

 

By these, crowds, groups of forms, vaguely I see, on the floor, some in the pews laid down;

10

At my feet more distinctly, a soldier, a mere lad, in danger of bleeding to death, (he is shot in the abdomen;)

 

I staunch the blood temporarily, (the youngster’s face is white as a lily;)

 

Then before I depart I sweep my eyes o’er the scene, fain to absorb it all;

 

Faces, varieties, postures beyond description, most in obscurity, some of them dead;

 

Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of ether, the odor of blood;

15

The crowd, O the crowd of the bloody forms of soldiers—the yard outside also fill’d;

 

Some on the bare ground, some on planks or stretchers, some in the death-spasm sweating;

 

An occasional scream or cry, the doctor’s shouted orders or calls;

 

The glisten of the little steel instruments catching the glint of the torches;

 

These I resume as I chant—I see again the forms, I smell the odor;

20

Then hear outside the orders given, Fall in, my men, Fall in;

 

But first I bend to the dying lad—his eyes open—a half-smile gives he me;

 

Then the eyes close, calmly close, and I speed forth to the darkness,

 

Resuming, marching, ever in darkness marching, on in the ranks,

 

The unknown road still marching.

25

Beat! Beat! Drums!

 

1


BEAT! beat! drums!—Blow! bugles! blow!

 

Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,

 

Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation;

 

Into the school where the scholar is studying;

 

Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride;

5

Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, plowing his field or gathering his grain;

 

So fierce you whirr and pound, you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.

 

 

 

2


Beat! beat! drums!—Blow! bugles! blow!

 

Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets:

 

Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? No sleepers must sleep in those beds;

10

No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—Would they continue?

 

Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?

 

Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?

 

Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.

 

 

 

3


Beat! beat! drums!—Blow! bugles! blow!

15

Make no parley—stop for no expostulation;

 

Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer;

 

Mind not the old man beseeching the young man;

 

Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties;

 

Make even the trestles to shake the dead, where they lie awaiting the hearses,

20

So strong you thump, O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.

 

O Captain! My Captain!

 

1


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!

5

    O the bleeding drops of red,

 

      Where on the deck my Captain lies,

 

        Fallen cold and dead.

 

 

 

2


O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

 

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;

10

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,

15

        You’ve fallen cold and dead.

 

 

 

3


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;

20

  Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

 

    But I, with mournful tread,

 

      Walk the deck my Captain lies,

 

        Fallen cold and dead.

 

On the Beach at Night, Alone

 

ON the beach at night alone,

 

As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,

 

As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future.

 

 

 

A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all,

 

All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,

5

All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,

 

All distances of place, however wide,

 

All distances of time—all inanimate forms,

 

All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,

 

All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,

10

All men and women—me also;

 

All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;

 

All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;

 

All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;

 

This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them.

15

 


 

I Sit and Look Out

 

I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame,

 

I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done,

 

I see in low life the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate,

 

I see the wife misused by her husband, I see the treacherous seducer of young women,

 

I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love attempted to be hid, I see these sights on earth

5

I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny, I see martyrs and prisoners,

 

I observe a famine at sea, I observe the sailors casting lots who shall be kill’d to preserve the lives of the rest,

 

I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon laborers, the poor, and upon negroes,

 

         and the like;

 

All these – all the meanness and agony without end I sitting look out upon,

 

See, hear, and am silent.

10

 

Song of Myself

(an exerpt)

1


I CELEBRATE 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.

5

 

 

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;

 

I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;

 

The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

 

 

 

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;

 

It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;

10

I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;

 

I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

 

 

 

2


The smoke of my own breath;

 

Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine;

 

My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs;

15

The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn;

 

The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies of the wind;

 

A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms;

 

The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag;

 

The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides;

20

The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

 

 

 

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?

 

Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?

 

Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

 

 

 

Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems;

25

You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—(there are millions of suns left;)

 

You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the

          spectres in books;

 

You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me:

 

You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself.

 



Selected Sources and Study Aids

 

1)       Introduction to Walt Whitman

a)        General introductory information at poets.org: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/126

b)       A thorough, excellent online biography: http://www.whitmanarchive.org/biography/biographymainindex.html

c)        FAQs answered by a professor: http://www.wsu.edu/~campbelld/amlit/whitstruc.html

d)       Free poetry e-book of 354 of Whitman’s poems: http://www.poemhunter.com/walt-whitman/   (then look for the download link)

2)       “Song of Myself”

a)        Web text of the poem with hyperlinks to helpful explanations and background: http://www.vcu.edu/engweb/transcendentalism/roots/legacy/whitman/songofmyselfweb.html

b)       The text with line numbers at bartleby.com: www.bartleby.com/142/14.html

c)       A study guide with comments on structure, meaning, and study questions: http://www.csustan.edu/english/reuben/pal/chap4/whitman.html

 

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