Walt Whitman Was Born in 1819.The Family, Which Consisted of Nine Children, Lived in Brooklyn
Walt Whitman (1819–1892).
Walt Whitman was born in 1819.The family, which consisted of nine children, lived in Brooklyn and Long Island in the 1820s and 1830s. At the age of twelve, Whitman began to learn the printer’s trade, and fell in love with the written word. Largely self-taught, he read voraciously, becoming acquainted with the works of Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, and the Bible. In 1836, at the age of seventeen, he began his career as teacher in the one-room school houses of Long Island. He continued to teach until 1841, when he turned to journalism as a full-time career.
In 1855, Whitman took out a copyright on the first edition of Leaves of Grass, which consisted of twelve untitled poems and a preface. He published the volume himself. During his lifetime, Whitman continued to refine the volume, publishing several more editions of the book. This resulted in vastly different editions over four decades—the first a small book of twelve poems and the last a compilation of over 400 poems.
Whitman’s poetry is democratic in both its subject and its language. As the great lists that make up a large part of Whitman’s poetry show, anything—and anyone—is fair game for a poem. Whitman is concerned with cataloguing the new America he sees growing around him. Just as America is far different politically and practically from its European counterparts, so too must American poetry distinguish itself from previous models. Thus we see Whitman breaking new ground in both subject matter and diction.
A truly democratic poetry, for Whitman, is one that, using a common language, is able to cross the gap between the self and another individual, to effect a sympathetic exchange of experiences. This leads to a distinct blurring of the boundaries between the self and the world and between public and private.
Democracy As a Way of Life
Whitman envisioned democracy not just as a political system but as a way of experiencing the world. In the early nineteenth century, people still harbored many doubts about whether the United States could survive as a country and about whether democracy could thrive as a political system. To allay those fears and to praise democracy, Whitman tried to be democratic in both life and poetry. He imagined democracy as a way of interpersonal interaction and as a way for individuals to integrate their beliefs into their everyday lives. “Song of Myself” notes that democracy must include all individuals equally, or else it will fail.
In his poetry, Whitman widened the possibilities of poetic diction by including slang, colloquialisms, and regional dialects, rather than employing the stiff, erudite language so often found in nineteenth-century verse. Similarly, he broadened the possibilities of subject matter by describing myriad people and places. Like William Wordsworth, Whitman believed that everyday life and everyday people were fit subjects for poetry. Although much of Whitman’s work does not explicitly discuss politics, most of it implicitly deals with democracy: it describes communities of people coming together, and it imagines many voices pouring into a unified whole. For Whitman, democracy was an idea that could and should permeate the world beyond politics, making itself felt in the ways we think, speak, work, fight, and even make art.
The Beauty of the Individual
Throughout his poetry, Whitman praised the individual. He imagined a democratic nation as a unified whole composed of unique but equal individuals. “Song of Myself” opens in a triumphant paean to the individual: “I celebrate myself, and sing myself”. Elsewhere the speaker of that exuberant poem identifies himself as Walt Whitman and claims that, through him, the voices of many will speak. In this way, many individuals make up the individual democracy, a single entity composed of myriad parts. Every voice and every part will carry the same weight within the single democracy—and thus every voice and every individual is equally beautiful. Despite this pluralist view, Whitman still singled out specific individuals for praise in his poetry, particularly Abraham Lincoln. In 1865, Lincoln was assassinated, and Whitman began composing several elegies, including “O Captain! My Captain!” Although all individuals were beautiful and worthy of praise, some individuals merited their own poems because of their contributions to society and democracy.
The Self
Whitman’s interest in the self stays into his praise of the individual. Whitman links the self to the conception of poetry throughout his work, envisioning the self as the birthplace of poetry. Most of his poems are spoken from the first person, using the pronoun I. The speaker of Whitman’s most famous poem, “Song of Myself,” even assumes the name Walt Whitman, but nevertheless the speaker remains a fictional creation employed by the poet Whitman. Although Whitman borrows from his own autobiography for some of the speaker’s experiences, he also borrows many experiences from popular works of art, music, and literature. Repeatedly the speaker of this poem exclaims that he contains everything and everyone, which is a way for Whitman to reimagine the boundary between the self and the world. By imaging a person capable of carrying the entire world within him, Whitman can create an elaborate analogy about the ideal democracy, which would, like the self, be capable of containing the whole world.
Withman’s Poetry
Lists
Whitman filled his poetry with long lists. Often a sentence will be broken into many clauses, separated by commas, and each clause will describe some scene, person, or object. These lists create a sense of expansiveness in the poem, as they mirror the growth of the United States. Also, these lists layer images atop one another to reflect the diversity of American landscapes and people. In “Song of Myself,” for example, the speaker lists several adjectives to describe Walt Whitman in section 24. The speaker uses multiple adjectives to demonstrate the complexity of the individual: true individuals cannot be described using just one or two words. Later in this section, the speaker also lists the different types of voices who speak through Whitman. Lists are another way of demonstrating democracy in action: in lists, all items possess equal weight, and no item is more important than another item in the list. In a democracy, all individuals possess equal weight, and no individual is more important than another.
Rhythm and Incantation
Many of Whitman’s poems rely on rhythm and repetition to create a captivating, spellbinding quality of incantation. Often, Whitman begins several lines in a row with the same word or phrase, a literary device called anaphora. For example, the first four lines of “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer” (1865) each begin with the word “when”. Generally, the anaphora and the rhythm transform the poems into celebratory chants, and the joyous form and structure reflect the joyousness of the poetic content.
PER APPROFONDIRE: SAGGIO DI MARIO CORONA
When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
An Analysis of Whitman's "When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer"
This poem concerns different ways of knowing: being convinced rationally about something by hearing from the experts as opposed to experiencing it directly, intimately, and intuitively for yourself.
The setting for the first five lines is a lecture. The speaker of the poem is listening to a "learn'd astronomer" as he lectures, presumably about astronomy. The lecture seems rather dry and abstract, though. It focuses on scientific facts and figures all neatly arranged to appeal to human logic and reason. The lecturer offers "proofs," "figures," "charts and diagrams" for his hearers, who are expected to test the data and hypotheses "to add, divide, and measure them." The lecture is apparently successful because the audience responds "with much applause."
The speaker of the poem, however, responds differently. The poem shifts in the fifth line when he gives his own reaction: for some reason he grows "tired and sick" and must leave the lecture hall. He recovers when he gets outside by himself, where he occasionally looks up at the stars. He does not indicate precisely what has happened (calling the whole incident "unaccountable"), but the implications seem clear. Put off by the rational, scientific approach to the stars, he is restored when he experiences them directly for himself. The setting shifts from the enclosed, probably stuffy classroom with its dry facts and figures to the fresh "mystical moist night-air." Instead of hearing lecturing from the astronomer and applause from the audience, he experiences "perfect silence." Instead of abstract "charts and diagrams," he sees, directly and unmediated, the stars themselves. Whitman implies that this mystical, intuitive, direct way of knowing is superior to the second-hand, rational, intellectualized understanding that the scientist offers.
Whitman uses form and poetic language to reinforce his point. Writing the poem in free verse allows him to tailor the form to the content (instead of superimposing on it a pre-existing stanza pattern and rhyme scheme). For example, in the first half of the poem he keeps increasing the length of the lines. He also keeps repeating words and phrases ("when," "heard the astronomer," "lecture") and multiplying synonyms (proofs and figures, charts and diagrams, "to add, divide, and measure"). As a result, this part of the poem begins to drag and grow repetitious and boring just as the lecture on astronomy does for the speaker of the poem. The repetition of "r" sounds, too ("heard the learn'd astronomer"), conveys the impression that the lecturer is droning on and on (as professors at UMD never do).
The form and sound of the poem then shift when the speaker leaves the lecture hall. The lines now grow progressively shorter, and instead of droning "r" sounds we get a pleasant, musical assonance and alliteration: crisp, clean long "i" vowels and "m" and "s" consonants ("rising," "gliding" "I," "by myself," "night," "time to time," "silence," "mystical, moist," "stars").
Whitman might be playing with sight as well as sound when he contrasts his two different experiences. In the lecture hall all of the seats would be arranged in orderly rows facing the podium. Also, he indicates that the lecturer is using charts and diagrams which feature figures ranged in columns before me. This rigid, repetitious order disappears when the speaker of the poem flees the hall. Once outside the orderly classroom, he says that he wander'd off by himself; the verb he uses suggests a spontaneous, free, irregular movement that contrasts with the straight lines that oppressed him earlier. (Whitman may have known that planet derives from the Greek word meaning wanderer. ) And the final image of the poem is the stars. Whitman conjures up for us a vision of the dark night sky studded with lights that are arranged not in neat rows but irregularly; or in constellations created by the poetic human imagination.
If we have grasped the meaning of his poem, Whitman implies, we should now stop analyzing it, close our books, and go out to look at the stars for ourselves.
http://www.d.umn.edu/engl/eportfolio/eportfolio_close-analysis_whitman.php
Free Verse
Whitman wrote the poem in free verse. Free verse generally has no metrical pattern or end rhyme. However, it may contain patterns of another kind, such as repetition.
Repetition of Words
For example, the first four lines of "When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer" all begin with the same word, constituting a figure of speech known as anaphora.
Repetition of Parallel Structure
In addition, the poem builds a syntactical pattern, parallel structure, in the following groups of words:
the proofs, the figures (line 2)
the charts and diagrams (line 3)
add, divide, and measure (line 3)
tired and sick (line 5)
rising and gliding (line 6)
Repetition of Sounds
Finally, the poem repeats similar sounds: heard, learn'd, heard; lectured, lecture, perfect; room, soon; rising, gliding, time, time, silence. Notice, too, the alliterations in the last two lines: mystical moist and silent . . . stars.
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,
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 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 him or 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.
An Analysis of Whitman's " I Hear America Singing "
"I Hear America Singing" presents an image of America that America would like to believe true—an image of proud and healthy individualists engaged in productive and happy labor. Mechanic, carpenter, mason, boatman, deckhand, shoemaker, hatter, wood-cutter, plowboy—from city to country, from sea to land, the "varied carols" reflect a genuine joy in the day’s creative labor that makes up the essence of the American dream or myth. . . . America singing emerges as a happy, individualistic, proudly procreative, and robustly comradely America. It is surprising that in such a brief poem so much of Whitman’s total concept of modern man could be implied.
James E. Miller, Jr., from A Critical Guide to Leaves of Grass (U of Chicago P, 1957)
For Whitman the temptation was strong, even irresistible, to identify himself with the national collective, and his creative expression was often an attempt to devise ways to realize that ambition, whether indirectly, as in "Song of Myself," or directly, as in "I Hear America Singing." In the latter case, Whitman imagined the dynamic power of the nation not as a geographical entity spreading westward but as an activity—and one of his favorite ones, at that: singing. The poem consists of a vision of the various units of the country—the mechanic, the carpenter, the mason, the young wife, the boatman—each person separately "singing" his or her individual song. But where in [the poem] "Pictures" each person acts his or her role separately, this poem blends the individual acts of singing into a harmonious participial ensemble of America singing. The paradox from which the poem works, the empowerment of each element of the country individually but at the same time their merger in the collective empowerment of the nation as a whole, was one that Whitman saw as forming a fault line across American society. I believe, in fact, that the fear of the failure of the individual parts to conjoin as neatly and harmoniously as the seamless whole orchestrated by this poem was one that Whitman knew profoundly even before his development by the mid-1850s into the poet of Leaves of Grass.
Ezra Greenspan, from "Some Remarks on the Poetics of ‘Participle-Loving Whitman’" in Greenspan, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Walt Whitman (Cambridge UP, 1995).
O Me! O Life!
BY WALT WHITMAN
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
An Analysis of Whitman's "O me! O Life!" Walt Whitman’s Answer
Life, as we all know, has its ups and downs. Normally the ups are slight, the downs are slight, but we all go through phases, whether days, months, or even years, when things just do not seem to go right at all. That can be very wearing on the human spirit. In such circumstances we begin to notice all that is bad or amiss, not only in the people around us but in ourselves. It all begins to seem a bit overwhelming. Our faith in humanity is shaken, as is our faith in ourselves. Walt Whitman went through such times, and wrote this poem expressing concerns with self (O me!) and with existence in general (O life!) — thus its title, O Me! O Life!