19. WHITMAN'S POEMS (WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM’D & CROSSING THE BROOKLYN FERRY) - for APPSC TGPSC TREIRB JL/DL

19. WHITMAN'S POEMS 

(WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM’D

 CROSSING THE BROOKLYN FERRY) 

for APPSC TGPSC TREIRB JL/DL

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Walter Whitman Jr. (May 31, 1819 – March 26, 1892) 

Biography:

Walt Whitman is a major poet, essayist, and journalist; novelist and an outstanding personality in the history of American literature. He is an ideal poet and a prophet for mankind. He used transcendentalism and realism in his writings and is often called as ‘father of free verse.’ Ezra Pound called Whitman "America's poet... He is America." W. D. O'Connor, his contemporary critic called him as, “Good Gray Poet.” He is called as “America’s bard of democracy.”

Walt Whitman was born in West Hills, Long Island, New York on May 31, 1819. His father, Walter, was a laborer, carpenter, and house builder. His mother, Louisa, was a devout Quaker. In 1823, the family moved to Brooklyn, where Walt had his schooling (1825-30). At age 11, he left formal schooling to go to work. From 1830 to 1836, he worked as a teacher, a government clerk, and as a journalist on newspapers in Brooklyn and Manhattan. From 1836 to 1841 he was a schoolteacher in Long Island, despite the paucity of his own education. He also traveled extensively throughout America. Between 1841 and 1851 Whitman edited various periodicals and newspapers.

In 1862 Walt's brother George was wounded in the Civil War. When Whitman traveled to Virginia to visit him, he saw large numbers of the wounded in hospitals. The Civil War was a major event in Whitman's career, making him a dresser of spiritual wounds as well as of physical ones as he worked as a volunteer in hospitals. Lincoln's assassination (1865) also moved Whitman deeply.

In 1865 Whitman was fired from his post in the Department of the Interior in Washington because of the alleged indecency of Leaves of Grass. He was hired by the Attorney General's office and remained there until 1873 when he suffered a mild paralytic stroke which left him a semi-invalid.

In Whitman's last years (1888-92), he was mostly confined to his room in the house which he had bought in Camden, New Jersey. He died on March 26, 1892, at the age of 72

 

Leaves of Grass:

Leaves of Grass symbolizes the fulfillment of American romanticism as well as a realistic revolt against it. Whitman so completely identified himself with it: "This is no book,/Who touches this touches a man." The first edition (1855) of Leaves of Grass consisted of ninety-five pages. The author's name did not appear, but his picture was included. By the time the second edition was published in 1856, the volume consisted of 384 pages, with a favorable review by Emerson printed on the back cover. For this edition in 1860, Whitman not only added to the text, he also altered the poems which had previously been published. It contained 124 new poems. The fourth edition in 1867, was called the "workshop" edition because so much revision had gone into it. It contained eight new poems. The fifth edition (1871) included the new poem "Passage to India." The sixth edition, in two volumes, in 1876. The seventh edition (1881) is widely accepted as an authoritative edition today.

The last, Ninth Edition, which is also called the "deathbed edition” because it was completed in the year of Whitman's death (1892), represents Whitman's final thoughts.

Poetry:

1.   The Leaves of Grass 1855- poetry collection, revised until his death in 1892. The edition has 12, and the last has more than 400 poems.

a.   Song of Myself 1855- 52 sections in it represent 52 weeks of an year. The poem, which was initially titled ‘Poem of Walt Whitman, an American,’ also serves as a biography of Whitman. Famous line: I celebrate myself, and sing myself,/And what I assume you shall assume,/For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

b.   I Sing the Body Electric 1855- Whitman explores the physical body (he first examines the female and then the male body) at length and celebrates its importance in forming connections between people, both erotically and spiritually.

c.   Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking 1860- The poem features a boy who sees a couple of birds nesting. One day the female bird is not to be seen and the male cries out for her. The bird’s cries create an awakening in the boy and he is able to translate the male bird’s cries for its lost mate.

d.   I Hear America Singing 1860- Whitman expresses his love of America – its vitality, variety, and its achievements as a result of the work done by its people. In the poem, the poet hears “varied carols” of people who make America what it is.

e.   A Noiseless Patient Spider 1868- included in Leaves of Grass in 1891- describes the spider’s endless effort, symbolizing the speaker’s attempts to make connections in the universe.

f.    I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing 1860- describes a solitary oak tree that is thriving without companionship or support. This poem is the most famous of the ‘Calamus’ cluster.

2.   Drum-Taps 1865- collection of poetry

a.   Pioneers! O Pioneers! 1865- It’s a tribute to Americans (as pioneers.), who with their determination and hard work, transformed wilderness into a great civilization.

b.   Beat! Beat! Drums! 1861- written as a reaction of the North at the beginning of the American Civil War. The poem calls for people from all strata of society to react to the drumbeats.   

3.   Sequel to Drum-Taps: When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd and other poems 1865- collection of peoms on American Civil War (1861–1865), including the elegies "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" and "O Captain! My Captain!"

4.   Passage to India 1871- on completion of Suez Canal, intended to be a supplementary to Leaves of Grass. (E M Foster titled ‘A Passage to India (1924)’ for his novel, after this poem)

 

Four poems on Death of Lincoln:

1.   When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd 1865- elegy, on the death of President Abraham Lincoln. Despite the poem being an elegy to Lincoln, Whitman doesn’t use the name of the President. The poem moves from grief to the distress that war causes and ends with acceptance of death. Though not one of Whitman’s favorite, the poem is considered a masterpiece and ranked by critics as one of the greatest elegies in English language.

2.   O Captain My Captain 1865 – on death of Lincoln, refers to Abraham Lincoln as the captain of the ship, representing America. Included in ‘Sequel to Drum Taps’. The poem also has several references to the American Civil War; and political and social issues of the time. Written in the year of Lincoln’s death, became very famous.

3.   Hush'd Be the Camps To-Day 1865- dedicated to Abraham Lincoln, written shortly after Lincoln's assassination.

4.   This Dust Was Once the Man 1871- written after 6 years of Lincoln's assassination.

Note:

Ø These four poems were included in subsequent editions of Leaves of Grass. I

Ø n the 1871 edition, Whitman's four Lincoln poems were listed as a cluster titled "President Lincoln's Burial Hymn".

Ø In the 1881 edition, this cluster was renamed "Memories of President Lincoln".

 

Fiction:

1.   Franklin Evans; or The Inebriate: A Tale of the Times (1842)- a temperance novel

2.   The Half-Breed; A Tale of the Western Frontier 1845- is a fictional story, which was originally published under the name of "Arrow-Tip".

3.   Life and Adventures of Jack Engle 1852- Full title: “Life and Adventures of Jack Engle: An Auto-Biography: A Story of New York at the Present Time in Which the Reader Will Find Some Familiar Characters.” - a city mystery novel- serialized the novel, in six installments of New York's The Sunday Dispatch In 1852.

4.   Manly Health and Training 1858- a series of newspaper columns -a 47,000 word series in 1858, under the pen name Mose Velsor (from mother’s family name).

5.   Democratic Vistas 1871- an early classic work of comparative politics and letters, criticizes Thomas Carlyle's Shooting Niagara: and after? And other works, comments on Industrial Revolution, foreshadowed Frederick Jackson Turner's frontier thesis.

6.     Memoranda During the War (1876)

7.     Specimen Days (1882)

8.     The Wound Dresser: Letters written to his mother from the hospitals in Washington during the Civil War (1898)

WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM’D

Background/Context

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd (1865) is a long poem (pastoral elegy) by American poet Walt Whitman on the death of U.S. president Abraham Lincoln. It was written in the summer of 1865 during a period of profound national mourning in the aftermath of the president's assassination.

On 14 April 1865, President Abraham Lincoln was shot by John Wilkes Booth while attending the performance of a play at Ford's Theatre. Lincoln died the following morning. Whitman was at his mother's home when he heard the news of the president's death; in his grief he stepped outside the door to the yard, where the lilacs were blooming.

The poem, written in free verse in 206 lines, uses many of the literary techniques associated with the pastoral elegy. The poem is divided into 16 sections of varying lengths, with repeating “trinity” of symbols: lilacs, a drooping star in the western sky (Venus), and the hermit thrush.

First published in autumn 1865, "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd", first published in Sequel to Drum-Taps (1865) along with 42 other poems from Drum-Taps (1865); It was later absorbed into Leaves of Grass’s fourth edition, published in 1867.

 

Narrative structure:

Cycle	Sections	Narrative description
I	Section 1-4	Grief over Lincoln’s death introduction of symbols: Lilacs star, and bird
II	Section 5-9	Funeral procession, Journey of the coffin across the states,  national mourning
III	Section 10-13	Tributes to Lincoln and decorations for the tomb;
IV	Section 14-16	Cosmic understanding of death,  restatement of symbols

Whitman composed the poem into 16 numbered sections, and he does not label them into larger cycles. However, based on shifts in tone, narrative, setting, and symbols we can arrange the 16 sections to these cycles for clarity.

Free Verse

Walt Whitman's "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" is an “pastoral elegy” written in free verse, meaning it doesn't follow a regular rhyme scheme or meter. Instead, Whitman uses long, flowing lines and natural speech rhythms to create a musical, meditative quality. While there's no strict meter, Whitman uses repetition, parallelism, and strong stresses to give the poem its solemn, lyrical power.

Pastoral Elegy

One of the most important features of the pastoral elegy is the depiction of the deceased and the poet who mourns him as shepherds. Virgil is the most prominent classical practitioner of the pastoral elegy; Milton’s “Lycidas” and Shelley’s “Adonais” are the two best-known examples in the English tradition.

While it does not display all the conventions of the form, this is nevertheless considered to be a pastoral elegy form to mourn Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was the “shepherd ” of the American people during wartime, and his loss left the North in the position of a flock without a leader. As in traditional pastoral elegies, nature mourns Lincoln’s death in this poem.

While it includes classic pastoral features like grieving nature (the drooping star, mourning lilacs) and a solitary bird's song replacing the traditional shepherd's lament, Whitman transforms the form through free verse and urban wartime imagery. The poem maintains the pastoral elegy's focus on finding consolation in nature's cycles, but replaces religious resurrection with a more universal, naturalistic acceptance of death. Unlike traditional pastorals set in idealized landscapes, Whitman incorporates real American places and the collective grief of a nation at war, making it a modernized pastoral elegy.

 

SPEAKER

Our speaker sounds like universalized "I" in first-person omniscient point of view, since he's talking about life, death, grieving, and celebration and he sweeps the nation's landscapes. First, we're in a dooryard, then we're in a mysterious swamp, then we're attending funeral processions, and then we're hanging out with death, a hermit-bird, and a western star.

 

SETTING

setting in "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" covers the entire landscape of America. In this poem, One minute we're in a dooryard, the next we're traveling the prairies, and in the next we're in a big city somewhere. Occasionally our speaker even has us in a more mysterious, undefined world, one that's symbolic of the death and-or the unconscious mind. The time is set during the American Civil War, and those long funeral processions. When he's not trying to take in the entire country with his setting details, Whitman's speaker is in and out of the physical world, looking to come to terms with death.

 

TITLE

The title points to a specific moment in time—spring, when lilacs bloom. But it’s also retrospective ("last"), hinting this isn’t just any spring. It’s the spring when Lincoln died (April 1865, when lilacs would’ve been flowering)

When we think of spring and lilacs, we immediately imagine rejuvenation, life picking up again after winter, and perhaps even ideas related to hope and perseverance.

"When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" can be read in two different ways. You could argue that the word "last" refers to the final lilacs to bloom for the season, as late blooming flowers. Or, you could say that "last" relates to the idea of memory

 

Short Summary:

"When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd- is an elegy on the death of Abraham Lincoln, though it never mentions the president by name. Like most elegies, it develops from the personal (the death of Lincoln and the poet's grief) to the impersonal (the death of "all of you" and death itself); from an intense feeling of grief to the thought of reconciliation. The poem, which is one of the finest Whitman ever wrote, is a dramatization of this feeling of loss. The form is elegiac but also contains elements found in operatic music, such as the aria and recitative. The song of the hermit thrush, for example, is an "aria."

Abraham Lincoln was shot in Washington, D.C., by Booth on April 14, 1865, and died the following day. The body was sent by train from Washington to Springfield, Illinois. As it crossed the continent, it was saluted by the people of America. Whitman has not only men and women but even natural objects saluting the dead man.

The first cycle of the poem, comprising sections 1-4, presents the setting in clear perspective. As spring returns, the lilacs blossom, and the planet Venus "nearly dropp'd in the western sky," the poet mourns the loss "of him I love." He mourns the "powerful western fallen star" now covered by "black murk" in the "tearful night," and he is "powerless" and "helpless" because the cloud around him "will not free my soul." He observes a lilac bush, is deeply affected by its perfume, and believes that "every leaf [is] a miracle." He breaks off a small branch with "heart-shaped Leaves." A shy, solitary thrush, like a secluded hermit, sings a song which is an expression of its inmost grief. It sings "death's outlet song of life."

This first section of the poem introduces the three principal symbols of the poem — the lilac, the star, and the bird. They are woven into a poetic and dramatic pattern. The meaning of Whitman's symbols is neither fixed nor constant. The star, Venus, is identified with Lincoln, generally, but it also represents the poet's grief for the dead. Lilacs, which are associated with everreturning spring, are a symbol of resurrection, while its heartshaped Leaves symbolize love. The purple color of the lilac, indicating the passion of the Crucifixion, is highly suggestive of the violence of Lincoln's death. The bird is the symbol of reconciliation with death and its song is the soul's voice. "Death's outlet song of life" means that out of death will come renewed life. Death is described as a "dark mother" or a "strong deliveress," which suggests that it is a necessary process for rebirth. The emotional drama in the poem is built around this symbolic framework. The continual recurrence of the spring season symbolizes the cycle of life and death and rebirth. The words "ever-returning spring," which occur in line 3 and are repeated in line 4, emphasize the idea of rebirth and resurrection. The date of Lincoln's assassination coincided with Easter, the time of Christ's resurrection. These two elements provide the setting to the poem in time and space.

The second stanza of the poem describes the poet's intense grief for the dead. Each line begins with "O," an exclamation which is like the shape of a mouth open in woe.

The second cycle of the poem comprises sections 5-9. It describes the journey of the coffin through natural scenery and industrial cities, both representing facets of American life. The thrush's song in section 4 is a prelude to the journey of the coffin which will pass "over the breast of the spring" through cities, woods, wheat fields, and orchards. But "in the midst of life we are in death," as it says in the Book of Common Prayer, and now the cities are "draped in black" and the states, like "crape-veil'd women," mourn and salute the dead. Somber faces, solemn voices, and mournful dirges mark the journey across the American continent.

To the dead man, the poet offers "my sprig of lilac," his obituary tribute. The poet brings fresh blossoms not for Lincoln alone, but for all men. He chants a song "for you 0 sane and sacred death" and offers flowers to "the coffins all of you 0 death."

The poet now addresses the star shining in the western sky: "Now I know what you must have meant." Last month the star seemed as if it "had something to tell" the poet. Whitman imagines that the star was full of woe "as the night advanced" until it vanished "in the netherward black of the night." Whitman calls upon the bird to continue singing. Yet the poet momentarily lingers on, held by the evening star, "my departing comrade."

The symbols are retained throughout this section. The poet bestows, as a mark of affection, a sprig of lilac on the coffin. The association of death with an object of growing life is significant. The star confides in the poet — a heavenly body identifies itself with an earthly being. The star is identified with Lincoln, and the poet is still under the influence of his personal grief for the dead body of Lincoln, and not yet able to perceive the spiritual existence of Lincoln after death. The song of the hermit thrush finally makes the poet aware of the deathless and the spiritual existence of Lincoln.

In the third cycle of the poem, sections 10-13, the poet wonders how he shall sing "for the large sweet soul that has gone." How shall he compose his tribute for the "dead one there I loved"? With his poem he wishes to "perfume the grave of him I love." The pictures on the dead president's tomb, he says, should be of spring and sun and Leaves, a river, hills, and the sky, the city dense with dwellings, and people at work — in short, "all the scenes of life." The "body and soul" of America will be in them, the beauties of Manhattan spires as well as the shores of the Ohio and the Missouri rivers — all "the varied and ample land." The "gray-brown bird" is singing "from the swamps" its "loud human song" of woe. The song has a liberating effect on the poet's soul, although the star still holds him, as does the mastering odor" of the lilac.

In this cycle the description of natural objects and phenomena indicates the breadth of Lincoln's vision, and the "purple" dawn, "delicious" eve, and "welcome" night suggest the continuous, endless cycle of the day, which, in turn, symbolizes Lincoln's immortality.

Sections 14-16 comprise a restatement of the earlier themes and symbols of the poem in a perspective of immortality. The poet remembers that one day while he sat in the peaceful but "unconscious scenery of my land," a cloud with a "long black trail" appeared and enveloped everything. Suddenly he "knew death." He walked between "the knowledge of death" and "the thought of death." He fled to the bird, who sang "the carol of death." The song of the thrush follows this passage. It praises death, which it describes as "lovely,""soothing," and "delicate." The "fathomless universe" is adored "for life and joy" and "sweet love." Death is described as a "dark mother always gliding near with soft feet." To her, the bird sings a song of "fullest welcome." Death is a "strong deliveress" to whom "the body gratefully" nestles.

The thrush's song is the spiritual ally of the poet. As the bird sings, the poet sees a vision: "And I saw askant the armies." He sees "battle-corpses" and the "debris of all the slain soldiers." These dead soldiers are happy in their resting places, but their parents and relatives continue to suffer because they have lost them. The suffering is not of the dead, but of the living.

The coffin has now reached the end of its journey. It passes the visions," the "song of the hermit bird," and the "tallying song" of the poet's soul. "Death's outlet song" is heard, "sinking and fainting," and yet bursting with joy. The joyful psalm fills the earth and heaven. As the coffin passes him, the poet salutes it, reminding himself that the lilac blooming in the dooryard will return each spring. The coffin has reached its resting place in "the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim." The star, the bird, and the lilac join with the poet as he bids goodbye to Lincoln, his "comrade, the dead I loved so well."

The poet's realization of immortality through the emotional conflict of personal loss is the principal theme of this great poem, which is a symbolistic dramatization of the poet's grief and his ultimate reconciliation with the truths of life and death.

 

THEMES

Death

This poem is an elegy — a meditation on death and mourning. But Whitman doesn’t depict death as terrifying or final. Instead, he transforms it into something natural, cyclical, and even beautiful.

Through this, the poem suggests that death is not an end, but a return to nature, a passage into something eternal and serene.

Perseverance and Continuity

Despite the personal and national grief, the world goes on — the lilacs bloom again, the thrush sings, the stars rise and set.

These natural symbols, especially the recurring blooming of the lilac, reflect the resilience of life. The American landscape — with its “bustling cities,” “flowing rivers,” and “swamps of the South” — also mirrors the perseverance of a nation determined to heal and move forward after the Civil War and Lincoln’s death.

Theme of Admiration (Tribute to Lincoln)

The poem is, above all, a profound tribute to Abraham Lincoln. Though Whitman never mentions him by name. He is the “great star early droop’d in the western sky,” a cosmic figure whose death shook the nation. Whitman’s deep respect and affection for Lincoln pulses through every section — in the solemn funeral procession, in the lilac offering, and in the reverent tone of the bird’s song.

Theme of Nature as a Healer

Nature is everywhere in this poem — not just as a setting, but as an active participant in grief and healing. The lilac, the thrush, the western star, the swamps, clouds, and forests — all mirror and absorb human sorrow, transforming it into something universal. Through nature’s cycles, the speaker gradually comes to accept death as a necessary, even sacred, part of existence. The poem shows how immersing oneself in nature can offer solace when words and rituals fall short.

Theme of Mourning and National Grief

This isn’t just a private elegy — it’s a public, national act of mourning. The long, winding funeral procession carrying Lincoln’s coffin across the country is more than a literal event — it symbolizes the collective sorrow of a nation. The speaker walks alongside the procession spiritually, paying homage to a fallen leader, but also witnessing the unity of grief shared by millions.

 

Symbol Analysis

LILACS

Lilacs are in the title of the poem and in almost every section of the poem. They symbolize something bigger than spring. They represent ideas of hope, fertility, resurrection, perseverance, and the cycles of life and death. For the speaker, they are also reminders of the passing Lincoln. The lilacs are part of the "trinity" that the speaker uses throughout the poem: The lilacs, star, and bird.

WESTERN FALLEN STAR

That "drooping" western star represents the speaker's hero Lincoln. The "drooping" western star is also part of the speaker's "trinity." Its "powerful" light is a stark reminder of the powerful and great man. Once it's "lost" in the "black of the night," we also understand that, with its departure, Lincoln is also symbolically departing this world.

HERMIT-BIRD

Hermit bird is a little swamp thrush. It's alone, and it can't stop singing. The song they sing together becomes part of the speaker's soul and therefore is also an essential element to the speaker's consolation in the face of grief and woe.

the speaker "understands" the bird and his song. Together they compose a "carol for death" celebrating the "dark mother(=death)"

DEATH

Whitman personifies death not as a grim. At end death is personified, as a "Dark mother” and as a natural and even beautiful force that unifies us all. The speaker and the bird compose a song just for death. He addresses death as "sane and sacred." recognizing it as the natural and necessary essence of death. The speaker holds hands with two sides of death: the "knowledge of death" and the "thought of death."

THE CIVIL WAR

This elegy was written during the civil war, when the toll the war has taken on countless lives across the country. Those "torn and bloody flags" really drive home the cost of war that will forever be stained upon the nation's history. The "great cloud darkening the land" and "cities draped in black " is a pretty clear metaphor for the war. Though the dead are at resting, the mothers, the wives, the children and the armies left behind are the ones who really suffer.

Line by line Summary

SECTION 1

Lines 1-3

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,

And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,

I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

The speaker is recalling the last lilacs of the season blommed in his dooryard. The poem's setting takes place some time during spring (lilac season). The "great star" (Venus) in the western sky is "droop'd." we also get the feeling that there's some sadness in these lines.

The speaker mourning the loss of someone (Abraham Lincoln, but the name was not mentioned in the poem). Since, he "mourn with ever -returning spring," we understand that spring will forever remind him of what he lost.

Lines 4-6

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,

Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,

And thought of him I love.

So, with every returning spring, the speaker will get some sort of "trinity": lilacs, drooping star in the west, and "him." we can presume that lilacs represent life's vivacity and endurance since they come back every year ("perennial").

SECTION 2

Lines 7-9

O powerful western fallen star!

O shades of night—O moody, tearful night!

O great star disappear'd—O the black murk that hides the star!

Lines 7-9, there are a kind of of interjections ("O!"): we see that western star is "powerful" and "fallen" (symbolize someone).

The phrases "shades of night" and "moody, tearful night" are much darker as speaker’s mood who is probably mouning for death.

Into the metaphorical "black murk" the fallen western star has "disappear'd."

Lines 10-11

O cruel hands that hold me powerless—O helpless soul of me!

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.

The passing of that "fallen star" is making him feel "powerless" and "helpless." The metaphorical "harsh surrounding cloud" cannot "free" the speaker's soul, we also get the feeling that the world at large must also part of the speaker's suffering.

SECTION 3

Lines 12-14

In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd palings,

Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green,

With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love,

A sudden shift in the poem, we're back to the lovely lilacs in the dooryard. The lilac bush is "tall-growing" with with heart-shaped "rich green" leaves and strong perfume.

The fence is "white-wash'd," but the house is old which gives the impression of the passing of time despite times of mourning.

The lilacs are "delicate" despite the strong perfume. We're reminded that those spring blossoms are still fragile, just like life.

Lines 15-17

With every leaf a miracle—and from this bush in the dooryard,

With delicate-color'd blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,

A sprig with its flower I break.

The speaker states that with "every leaf a miracle" occurs. Despite those delicate buds, life still perseveres and flourishes. The speaker breaks off a "sprig(=stem) with its flower."

SECTION 4

Lines 18-19

In the swamp in secluded recesses,

A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.

A sudden change in mood and setting, now we're near that swamp in "secluded recesses," a shy bird is "warbling a song."

Lines 20-22

Solitary the thrush,

The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements,

Sings by himself a song.

The hermit-bird (a powerful image in the elegy), isolated in the woods somewhere, "avoiding the settlements", now “singing to himself”, but there's no one around to listen. it is associated with grief.

Lines 23-25

Song of the bleeding throat,

Death's outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know,

If thou wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die.)

The hermit-bird has been singing his song for a long time, since he has a "bleeding throat." Due to the sorrow, he can't stop singing it. That song is an outlet for the bird's life, keeping death away. In this sense, "Death's outlet" means "escape from Death."

The thrush is referred to as a "dear brother." Without the bird's ability to sing, life would cease to have any meaning. Instead, he would "surely die" without that ability to sing. We, like the thrush, cannot live without "song" and the ability to express our emotions, especially when we're suffering pain.

SECTION 5

Lines 26-27

Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities,

Amid lanes and through old woods, where lately the violets peep'd from the ground,

spotting the gray debris,

It's not all about spring here. Poem moves to new setting in order to see the entire "breast of spring" of the land and cities. We have some "gray debris" that tells us that some sort of destruction has occurred. Little violets "peep" from the ground, pushing apart some of the gray debris that's lying around.

Lines 28-29

Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes, passing the endless grass,

Passing the yellow-spear'd wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields

uprisen,

The landscape continues with lanes (dirt roads) bordered by fields of ‘endless’ grass and wheat. Something is "passing" that grass, we're not sure what it is yet.

Since "every grain from its shroud" is "uprisen," (not with a few shrouds of wheat), it suggests that life goes on and can even flourish despite all of man's conflicts and upheaval.

Lines 30-32

Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards,

Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave,

Night and day journeys a coffin.

That passing is now going past orchards now, with apple trees and their white and pink blossoms. Finally it is revealed that, “a coffin” ("carrying a corpse" to a grave) is traveling (funeral procession) night and day.

Even in the midst of life's rich and fertile landscape, death is present (and vice versa). That is, amid all the orchards and fields is a dead body, making its way to the grave.

SECTION 6

Lines 33-35

Coffin that passes through lanes and streets,

Through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land,

With the pomp of the inloop'd flags with the cities draped in black,

The coffin is passing through "great cloud darkening the land." The "pomp of the inloop'd flags", or the fact that entire cities are "draped in black," a sign of mourning, suggests that a great person in the coffin (Abraham Lincoin).

History Note: After the assassination, Lincoln's body was put on tour, taking him by train from Washington D.C. back to Springfield, Illinois.

Lines 36-38

With the show of the States themselves as of crape-veil'd women standing,

With processions long and winding and the flambeaus of the night,

With the countless torches lit, with the silent sea of faces and the unbared heads,

The repeated phrase "With the" is an example of anaphora. The national mourning in indicated with words "show of the States".

The "show of the States" and The "crape-veil'd women standing" (usually a black scarf) speaks to the shared mourning that's occurring following Lincoln's assassination. The States are all mourning the passing of their leader. Those torches and flambeaus (a kind of torch) are also reminders of the life that have been lost.

The "silent sea of faces" and their "unbared heads" (removing hats at funerals) indicate the respect and honor they pay to the dead.

Lines 39-41

With the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the sombre faces,

With dirges through the night, with the thousand voices rising strong and solemn,

With all the mournful voices of the dirges pour'd around the coffin,

The "waiting depot" refers to the train station where Lincoln's funeral train would arrive. The "dirges" (mournful music) add another layer of mourning.

Here, "thousand voices rising strong and solemn" give us some hope, despite all the despair. The folks are still mourning together, and remaining strong in hopes of a brighter tomorrow.

Lines 42-45

The dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs—where amid these you journey,

With the tolling tolling bells' perpetual clang,

Here, coffin that slowly passes,

I give you my sprig of lilac.

We can here the "tolling tolling bells" now. The word "you" is actually the coffin that's passing by. The speaker gave the coffin a sprig of lilac he broke off from the tall bush earlier.

SECTION 7

Lines 46-48

(Nor for you, for one alone,

Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring,

For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a song for you O sane and sacred death.

The speaker isn't just sharing that lilac with only one coffin. He's sharing it with all coffins. The symbolism of a "fresh morning" also furthers the speaker's spirit of life's continuance. Speaker calls the death as "sane and sacred."

Lines 49-50

All over bouquets of roses,

O death, I cover you over with roses and early lilies,

Death is covered by flowers here, symbolically, alerting us cycle of life and death continues and the roses and lilies come back every year to remind us.

The speaker speaking directly to death via apostrophe (addressing abstract ideas or things that aren't physically present).

Lines 51-54

But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first,

Copious I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes,

With loaded arms I come, pouring for you,

For you and the coffins all of you O death.)

It looks like the speaker is "breaking sprigs of lilacs and pouring them over death". There's not just one lilac, but "copious" amounts (lots of them). With "loaded arms" he comes pouring for everyone,

SECTION 8

Lines 55-57

O western orb sailing the heaven,

Now I know what you must have meant as a month since I walk'd,

As I walk'd in silence the transparent shadowy night,

There is that again. We have another change in setting and mood. We're getting cosmic, and our "western orb" (orb = star) is "sailing the heaven."

The night is "transparent" and "shadowy" at the same time. It's a paradox.

Lines 58-60

As I saw you had something to tell as you bent to me night after night,

As you droop'd from the sky low down as if to my side, (while the other stars all look'd on,)

As we wander'd together the solemn night, (for something I know not what kept me from sleep,)

The western orb is "bending" night after night. "While the other stars" look on, this orb drooped to the speaker's level (as if it's by his "side"), sharing in the speaker's grief and consolation.

They "wander together", as the orb appears to be extending to the speaker. The mourners and the speaker aren't alone now.

Lines 61-63

As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the west how full you were of woe,

As I stood on the rising ground in the breeze in the cool transparent night,

As I watch'd where you pass'd and was lost in the netherward black of the night,

The idea of the orb filled with woe indicates our grief is extended in a universal way, reaching even the heavens.

The "rising ground" is referring to the breeze rustling the foliage that's around, making the ground look as if it's rising.

The orb hasbeen lost in some kind of "netherworld". Symbolically, orb as representing Lincoln's who have been lost in a kind of abyssal darkness.

Lines 64-65

As my soul in its trouble dissatisfied sank, as where you sad orb,

Concluded, dropt in the night, and was gone.

The speaker's "troubled soul" is feeling "dissatisfied". The "sad orb" sharing in the speaker's grief was gone. Now, the speaker has to accept the passing of his nation's hero.

SECTION 9

Lines 66-68

Sing on there in the swamp,

O singer bashful and tender, I hear your notes, I hear your call,

I hear, I come presently, I understand you,

We're back to that loner hermit-thrush bird, singing in the swamp again. The speaker is feeling rather alone and abandoned by his orb.

The singer is "bashful and tender," and is connected to the speaker at this time, that's why the speaker says, "I hear your notes," and "I understand you."

Lines 69-70

But a moment I linger, for the lustrous star has detain'd me,

The star my departing comrade holds and detains me.

The speaker is still captivated by that star, since the star has "detain'd" (detained) the speaker. The star is referred as a "departing comrade," establishing connection between the star and Lincoln. The speaker lingers, because he can't let go of that departing comrade.

SECTION 10

Lines 71-73

O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved?

And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone?

And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?

The speaker trying to "warble(=sing)" his own song. The hermit-bird have has his own song and now the speaker needs his own in this time of grieving. The rhetorical questions add to the speaker's struggle to put his grieving into words. (questions asked without expecting answers.)

The speaker's wondering 1) how he can "sing" for Lincoln 2) how can he decorate ("deck") that song 3) how he can add "perfume" to the grave (make Lincoln's death bearable).

Lines 74-77

Sea-winds blown from east and west,

Blown from the Eastern sea and blown from the Western sea, till there on the prairies meeting,

These and with these and the breath of my chant,

I'll perfume the grave of him I love.

He'll use a "perfume" with sea winds from east and west, peppered with the "breath of [his] chant."

SECTION 11

Lines 78-80

O what shall I hang on the chamber walls?

And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls,

To adorn the burial-house of him I love?

The speaker has more rhetorical questions, asking what to hang on the walls, how to decorate ("adorn") Lincoln's burial house.

Lines 81-84

Pictures of growing spring and farms and homes,

With the Fourth-month eve at sundown, and the gray smoke lucid and bright,

With floods of the yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, sinking sun, burning, expanding the air,

With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of the trees prolific,

Here we have a catalogue of pictures the speaker might use to adorn the walls of "burial house": The pictures of farms, homes, sunsets, etc. with the light of a sundown at "Fourth-month" (=April in which Lincoln died.); or The pictures of the flowing the river, with sinking sun; or picures of green vegetation;

Lines 85-88

In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river, with a wind-dapple here and there,

With ranging hills on the banks, with many a line against the sky, and shadows,

And the city at hand with dwellings so dense, and stacks of chimneys,

And all the scenes of life and the workshops, and the workmen homeward returning.

We get more more snapshots of the nation's beauty, despite all the suffering. The speaker is not sure to choose from: the picures of flowing river; or hills on the banks; or dense landscapes of urban and rural; or scenes of life; or workmen homeward.

SECTION 12

Lines 89-92

Lo, body and soul—this land,

My own Manhattan with spires, and the sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships,

The varied and ample land, the South and the North in the light, Ohio's shores and flashing Missouri,

And ever the far-spreading prairies cover'd with grass and corn.

The speaker blending these images of the land with the idea of a "body and soul" ("Lo"= behold). The speaker describes the urban landscape of Manhattan with "sparkling and hurrying tides" and ships. The ‘South and the North’; from ‘Ohio to Missouri’ and "far-spreading prairies” that feed everyone, i.e., entire America's pictures of beauty "in the light."  .

Lines 93-95

Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty,

The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes,

The gentle soft-born measureless light,

We have the sun which is "calm and haughty".

We can almost feel those gentle early morning breezes, see the ‘voilet and purple’ sunrise. The breezes comes that complementary "soft-born" (This phrase is a sensory imagery associated with touch) measureless light.

Lines 96-98

The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill'd noon,

The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars,

Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.

The sun, that's depicted here as figuratively  miraculously "spreading" over and "bathing" all things. The speaker welcomes the night because the night is bringing some stars to the party, to light everything up. So, the world can never be that dark.

SECTION 13

Lines 99-101

Sing on, sing on you gray-brown bird,

Sing from the swamps, the recesses, pour your chant from the bushes,

Limitless out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines.

The gray brown bird is in the swamp or "recesses (=hidden or hard-to-see parts of something)". Speaker is asking the bird to sing out "limitless" again, from the "bushes", “cedars (tall evergreen tree)”, “pines” at "dusk" (sunset).

Lines 102-103

Sing on dearest brother, warble your reedy song,

Loud human song, with voice of uttermost woe.

The speaker calls him "dearest brother." The song is as a "loud human song," which cannot be silenced: it comes from a "voice of uttermost woe."

Lines 104-107

O liquid and free and tender!

O wild and loose to my soul—O wondrous singer!

You only I hear—yet the star holds me, (but will soon depart)

Yet the lilac with mastering odor holds me.

The human song is metaphorically a "liquid and free and tender." It is compared to a "wild and loose" soul. The singer, despite his woe, "wondrous" in its own way.

The bird's song is also rather captivating, since the speaker says that he only hears the singer, even though we're reminded that the "star holds [him]" but will "soon depart." The "mastering odor" holding the poet reminds the smell of those lilacs.

SECTION 14

Lines 108-11

Now while I sat in the day and look'd forth,

In the close of the day with its light and the fields of spring, and the farmers preparing their crops,

In the large unconscious scenery of my land with its lakes and forests,

In the heavenly aerial beauty, (after the perturb'd winds and the storms,)

At "close of the day," the speaker can see the landscape with its "fields of spring," “farmers preparing their crops”, the "large unconscious scenery of lakes and forests," and the "heavenly" cosmic beauty of the sky. So now we're seeing a sense of unity between all these different views of his environment.

He's is able to look back at "the perturb'd winds and the storms," which are symbols of the nation's Civil War, as well as the bad times of Lincoln's assassination.

Lines 112-114

Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, and the voices of children and women,

The many-moving sea-tides, and I saw the ships how they sail'd,

And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy with labor,

We can feel a sense of forward movement going on in words like "passing,""many moving,""sail'd" (sailed), and "approaching." Those "voices of children and women"(not only the men), accent this idea of progress and forward motion. The sailing ships move with those "many-moving sea-tides"; and "summer approaching with richness" gives the added sense of fertility and beauty through labor and work.

Lines 115-116

And the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, each with its meals and minutia of daily usages,

And the streets how their throbbings throbb'd, and the cities pent—lo, then and there,

Our speaker is adding more to this idea of moving forward, now with those "infinite separate houses" that bring forth meals and daily chores. Those "throbbing streets" add some life to the scene.

The "minutia of daily usages" makes us think of those daily routines that we may take for granted, but also constitute the majority of our "normal" daily lives. Without them, that forward motion can't really exist.

Lines 117-119

Falling upon them all and among them all, enveloping me with the rest,

Appear'd the cloud, appear'd the long black trail,

And I knew death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death.

The sudden appearance of metaphorical “cloud”, reminded death that's enveloping the nation with its "long black trail". The speaker reminds us of the "sacred" knowledge of death.

Lines 120-122

Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me,

And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me,

And I in the middle as with companions, and as holding the hands of companions,

We get the personification of death as a walking companion. Death appears to have two sides here: one that represents the speaker's "knowledge" of death and another that represents the speaker's "thought" of death.

The speaker's "thought" of death can be understood as more like those human anxieties we associate with it. Perhaps the speaker is referring to the worry, fear, or anguish that the "thought" of death brings. He's "in the middle" and is also "holding the hands" of his companions.

Lines 123-125

I fled forth to the hiding receiving night that talks not,

Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness,

To the solemn shadowy cedars and ghostly pines so still.

We see the speaker again embracing the more mysterious world associated with death as he "fled forth to the hiding receiving night." He's not afraid of the night and its darkness here; and flees "to" it rather than "from" it.

In fact, he's embracing the whole dark, mysterious setting that's symbolic of death. He's going right for that "swamp in the dimness" and those "shadowy cedars and ghostly pines."

Lines 126-128

And the singer so shy to the rest receiv'd me,

The gray-brown bird I know receiv'd us comrades three,

And he sang the carol of death, and a verse for him I love.

Our hermit-bird hates on everyone else, but he "receiv'd" our speaker. He is not alone, he's still holding hands with "knowledge of death" and "thought" of death, making their little group a party of "comrades three." Then, It sings a "carol of death," of course for Lincoln.

Lines 129-131

From deep secluded recesses,

From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still,

Came the carol of the bird.

The "deep secluded recesses" with "fragrant cedars" and "ghostly pines" is the place where the bird is singing its "carol of death" and the verse for Lincoln.

Lines 132-134

And the charm of the carol rapt me,

As I held as if by their hands my comrades in the night,

And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.

Notice we haven't received the actual song yet, but we have many instances of its alluring sound, and now we see the speaker "rapt" by it.

We know the speaker isn't literally holding the hands of all his mysterious comrades: Mr. Knowledge-of-Death and Mr. Thought-of-Death.

The speaker "tallied" (=understood) the "song of the bird" with the "voice of [his] spirit." He digs his song, we can assume that we'll be hearing the song shortly.

Lines 135-138

Come lovely and soothing death,

Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,

In the day, in the night, to all, to each,

Sooner or later delicate death.

Notice the euphemism the speaker is creating through this song, "lovely and soothing," rather than something to be feared. We also hear the speaker speaking directly to death again, making another example of an apostrophe.

“Death undulate[=move gently up and down like waves] round the world," means it affects all equally and "arrives" to each "sooner or later." Moreover death arrives "serenely.”

Lines 139-142

Prais'd be the fathomless universe,

For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,

And for love, sweet love—but praise! praise! praise!

For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.

The "fathomless universe" is also something to be praised rather than feared. We need not understand death and its universe, but only praise the joy life brings. The death being a loving companion with "sure-enwinding arms."

The elegy moved away from all the woe and encourage us to embrace the speaker's serene understanding and acceptance of death.

Lines 143-146

Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet,

Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?

Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all,

I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.

Death is metaphorically called as “Death Mother” moving with "soft feet." He chants for death and he even glorifies death above all.

Via apostrophe, he tells death that, whenever she indeed comes, she should do so "unfalteringly” (=without hesitation).

Lines 147-150

Approach strong deliveress,

When it is so, when thou hast taken them I joyously sing the dead,

Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee,

Laved in the flood of thy bliss O death.

The speaker calls death as "strong deliveress.", euphemism for death. (Euphemism is a figure of speech that replaces harsh or unpleasant words with milder or indirect ones.)

He "joyously sing[s]" and celebrates the dead,

And "loving floating ocean." is another beautiful metaphor for death. The speaker has a way more optimistic idea of death. He even "laved (=bathed) in the flood" of death's bliss.

Lines 151-154

From me to thee glad serenades,

Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee,

And the sights of the open landscape and the high-spread sky are fitting,

And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.

The speaker feels that the serenades (=a musical greeting or tribute) are not enough and he wants to include salute, dance, adornment and feast.

Death's limitless. Death can reach any landscape and even the "high-spread sky" of life. It is hung over the entire country. The night is personified now as "thoughtful night" too.

Lines 155-158

The night in silence under many a star,

The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,

And the soul turning to thee O vast and well-veil'd death,

And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.

Everything is peaceful and "in silence"now. Even the ocean has "whispering waves". The soul (Lincoln) is addressing the death as “O vast and well-veil'd death” and the body "gratefully nestling close" is to death.

Lines 159-162

Over the tree-tops I float thee a song,

Over the rising and sinking waves, over the myriad fields and the prairies wide,

Over the dense-pack'd cities all and the teeming wharves and ways,

I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee O death.

The speaker gives the impression of the carol floating over everything. The speaker reminds us again of those "dense-pack'd cities" and all of the life and progress they symbolize.

The mood by the end of the song is not only peaceful, it's also joyful in its celebration of death. Through the song then, the speaker manages to transcend (move beyond) all of his woe.

SECTION 15

Lines 163-165

To the tally of my soul,

Loud and strong kept up the gray-brown bird,

With pure deliberate notes spreading filling the night.

Back to our gray brown bird again. The bird sings to complement the speaker's song is not only "loud and strong" but also "pure" and "deliberate."

Here "filling the night" gives the impression of there being some light in the darkness. The night isn't just an empty void anymore. So the night, just like death, isn't a scary and unknown place anymore.

Lines 166-168

Loud in the pines and cedars dim,

Clear in the freshness moist and the swamp-perfume,

And I with my comrades there in the night.

The speaker has created an entirely new perspective for himself involving death. The swamp doesn't look so bad here after all. In fact we smell some "swamp-perfume”. Things are "clear" and "fresh" for him and we certainly feel the change in mood, compared to our earlier sections of woe.

Lines 169-170

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed,

As to long panoramas of visions.

The speaker is seeing clearly at this point with his "eyes unclosed" and his sight that reveals a panoramic (widespread) view of everything that's going on. We notice that he's taking on a sort of omniscient quality that sees all things.

Lines 171-173

And I saw askant the armies,

I saw as in noiseless dreams hundreds of battle-flags,

Borne through the smoke of the battles and pierc'd with missiles I saw them,

The speaker sees "askant" (doubtful) "armies" and all their "battle-flags" and smoke in war. But he describes these visions as "noiseless dreams," which suggests that there's something unreal about it. The missiles have pierced the battle-flags.

Lines 174-176

And carried hither and yon through the smoke, and torn and bloody,

And at last but a few shreds left on the staffs, (and all in silence,)

And the staffs all splinter'd and broken.

These lines describe how "broken" and torn-up each flag has become. Only a "few shreds left" on the staffs of the flags. The remains of the flags are "torn and bloody," so we're reminded of "silence" evoked by those bloody remains of the flag.

Lines 177-179

I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them,

And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them,

I saw the debris and debris of all the slain soldiers of the war,

He saw "myriads" of "battle-corpses" and "white skeletons of young men." The "debris" of of "slain soldiers" add another layer of carnage to the scene. Here debris being covered by more debris. There aren't any lilacs around here to push the debris away.

Lines 180-184

But I saw they were not as was thought,

They themselves were fully at rest, they suffer'd not,

The living remain'd and suffer'd, the mother suffer'd,

And the wife and the child and the musing comrade suffer'd,

And the armies that remain'd suffer'd.

All those dead guys aren't the ones suffering, as they are "fully at rest". It's "the living" who remain who suffer, just like the speaker suffers. The mothers, the wives, the children, and comrade are sufering. Even the army that remained are suffering.

SECTION 16

Lines 185-187

Passing the visions, passing the night,

Passing,unloosing the hold of my comrades' hands,

Passing the song of the hermit bird and the tallying song of my soul,

We reached the final section. We really feel the speaker's "passing" through all of his different visions: passing the night, passing the song of the hermit bird.

The speaker no longer needs the assistance of comrades. The speaker is even "passing the song of the hermit bird" and he's able to "pass" his own song of his soul in a more objective way.

Line 188-190

Victorious song, death's outlet song, yet varying ever-altering song,

As low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night,

Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting with joy,

This "death's outlet song" is also a "victorious song" despite its "ever-altering" moods. The song of "wailing(cry)" is "clear" with enlightened notes from the hermit bird and the speaker. There is a sort of "warning" relateed to the cost of war and the toll it takes on those left behind who suffer.

The song has changed from cry to warning and then to a beautiful moment "burst with joy." We've learned to imagine death as a beautiful and praiseworthy thing that mustn't be feared.

Lines 191-194

Covering the earth and filling the spread of the heaven,

As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses,

Passing,I leave thee lilac with heart-shaped leaves,

I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring.

The song is limitless as it "covers the earth" and "heaven." Though the poem is all about death, but feels like a bit of a religious connotation, a "powerful psalm".

The poem has returned again to heart and soul of the poem: the lilacs in the dooryard "returning with spring." Lilacs are the reminders of life's rejuvenation, perseverance, and for the speaker, Lincoln's death.

Lines 195-197

I cease from my song for thee,

From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee,

O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night.

Now, the speaker says that he is ceasing from his song for the lilacs. He's also ceasing his song for the western star and the "lustrous" comrade the star symbolizes.

The image of "silver face in the night" reminds us of the poem's driving force: Lincoln. (the speaker never explicitly stated the name.)

Lines 198-200

Yet each to keep and all,nretrievements out of the night,

The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird,

And the tallying chant, the echo arous'd in my soul,

The speaker also reminds "each to keep" along with all those "retrievements [things to keep] of the night": both the bird's and his own song-poem ("the tallying chant").

Lines 201-203

With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance full of woe,

With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of the bird,

Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep, for the dead I loved so well,

The "drooping star", along with speaker's comrades, and speaker’s memory is "ever to keep." They won't be forgotten, and neither will Lincoln.

Lines 204-206

For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands—and this for his dear sake,

Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,

There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.

He recalls "sweetest, wisest soul" and this elegy was indeed "for his dear sake." He "twined"  the "trinity" of the lilac, the star, and the bird with the chant of his soul (this poem) together in the "fragrant pines and cedars dusk and dim."

 

 

8. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry (1860)

 

Context/Background:

“Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” like most of Whitman’s poems. This poem was originally called "Sun-Down Poem" and first appeared in the 1856 edition of Leaves of Grass. It was retitled as "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" in 1860 version of the poem which is divided into 26 sections with 147 lines. This poem received its final modifications for the 1881 edition which has 9 sections and 132 lines, but most of the lines are he same.

This poem seeks to determine the relationship of human beings to one another across time and space. This sense of repetition and revisiting reinforces the thematic content of the poem, which looks at the possibility of continuity within humanity based on common experiences. Whitman wonders what he means to the crowds of strangers he sees every day. He assumes that they see the same things he does, and that they react in the same way, and that this brings them together in a very real sense.

 

Narrative Structure:

Sections	Narrative Progress/Summary
1-3	Observation & Shared Experience – Whitman describes the ferry ride, the river, and the people, emphasizing that future generations will see the same sights and feel the same connections. It connects ‘Body and Soul’ or ‘Life and Death’ similar as ‘Land and water’. Ferry creates a bond between past, present and Future. (transcends the time).
4-6	Doubt & Spiritual Connection – The speaker questions whether others truly understand him. He talks about the common emotions, struggles, and desires that connect all people. He contemplates the shared human experience across time.
7-9	Eternal Unity & Celebration – The poem shifts to a cosmic perspective, recapitulates all the images. The speaker affirms the unity of all people through time and space. He expresses a deep spiritual connection with others and celebrates the continuity of life and human experience.

 

Summary

The major image in the poem is the ferry. It symbolizes continual movement, backward and forward, a universal motion in space and time. The ferry moves on, from a point of land, through water, to another point of land. Land and water thus form part of the symbolistic pattern of the poem. Land symbolizes the physical; water symbolizes the spiritual. The circular flow from the physical to the spiritual connotes the dual nature of the universe. Dualism, in philosophy, means that the world is ultimately composed of, or explicable in terms of, two basic entities, such as mind and matter.

From a moral point of view, it means that there are two mutually antagonistic principles in the universe — good and evil. In Whitman's view, both the mind and the spirit are realities and matter is only a means which enables man to realize this truth. His world is dominated by a sense of good, and evil has a very subservient place in it. Man, in Whitman's world, while overcoming the duality of the universe, desires fusion with the spirit. In this attempt, man tries to transcend the boundaries of space and time.

The ferry symbolizes this spatial and temporal movement. It is also associated with the groups of men and women who ride it, who have ridden it, and who will ride it. The coming together of these men and women symbolizes the spiritual unity of men in this world.

The poet first addresses the elements — the tide, the clouds, and the sun — saying, "I see you face to face." He next observes the crowds of men and women on the ferryboats: "How curious you are to me" he says, for he thinks of these people in relation to those who "shall cross from shore to shore years hence." The poet meditates on the relationships between the various generations of men.

This first section establishes the setting of the poem. The poet is on the bank, and he observes the ferry as well as the passengers, whom he expands to symbolize the large united self of mankind. The tide, the cloud, and the sun become integral characters in this spiritual drama between the poet and the elements. The poet first responds to natural objects and then to people with the ultimate aim of bringing about an imaginative fusion between himself and the reader.

In the second section, the men and women on the ferryboat become the eternal "impalpable sustenance" of the poet. He thinks of "the simple, compact, well-join'd scheme" of the universe and believes himself to be "disintegrated yet part of the scheme." He thinks again about all the people of the future who will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore."

The poet thinks about his role in relation to the nature of the universe. To him, the universe seems compact, harmonious, and well-adjusted. He is part of the multitude of men, part of the eternal processes of birth, life, and death. Whitman probes into the future and identifies himself with persons who will cross the river "a hundred years hence." Thus a link is established between the poet and the "others" — including future readers.

In section 3, Whitman declares that neither time nor place really matter, for he is part of this generation and of many generations hence. He speaks to future generations and tells them that their experiences are not new: "I too many and many a time cross'd the river of old,/Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, . . . /Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water." He, too, saw the ships arriving, "the sailors at work," and "the flags of all nations." He, too, saw "the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night."

This third section reveals the poet's desire to transcend time, place, and distance in order to establish contact with people of future generations. His own experience is similar to that of the reader years from now.

The description of the journey on the river is very vivid. The movement of the day from morning until midnight is parallel to the movement of the poet from one side of the river to another and from the physical to the spiritual.

In section 4, Whitman declares his deep love for the cities, the river, and the people. This section is transitional and marks the beginning of the change of the poet's attitude toward men and objects. For the first time (in this poem) he becomes emotionally involved in his relationships with other people and things. The reference to the future is prophetic and anticipates the growth of spiritual kinship between the poet and the reader.

The poet, in section 5, poses a question about the relationship between himself and the generations to come. Even if there are hundreds of years between them, they are united by things which do not change. He, too, lived in Brooklyn and walked the Manhattan streets. He, too, "felt the curious abrupt questionings" stir within him. He believes that his body, his physical existence, has become a ferry uniting him with all mankind.

Thus section 5 is the central core of the poem. The poet, in seeking his own physical and spiritual identity, endeavors to unite his sensibility with that of his reader. His experience transcends the limits of the Brooklyn ferry and is universalized. His quest now becomes more intellectual than before; the "curious abrupt questionings" are no longer emotional. Wishing to suggest the quality of spiritual unification, Whitman has used the metaphor of a chemical solution: "The float forever held in solution" is the infinite ocean of spiritual life which contains the "potential" of all life. The spiritual solution is the source of one's being. The use of the term "solution" is significant because it indicates the merging of man's existence with his spirit. Spiritually, he is united with future generations and with all of mankind.

In section 6 the poet tells us that he has been engulfed by the same "dark patches" of doubt which have engulfed the reader. His best actions have appeared "blank" and "suspicious." He, too, has known "what it was to be evil" and he, too, "blabb'd, blush'd, resented, lied, stole, grudg'd,/Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak." But life, finally, is what we make it — "the same old role . . . as great as we like,/Or as small as we like." The "old knot of contrariety" the poet has experienced refers to Satan and his evil influence on man, which creates the condition of contraries, of moral evil and good in human life. The poet suffered from these evil influences, as have all men. So, the poet implies, do not feel alone because you have been this way — one must accept both the pure and the impure elements of life.

In section 7, the poet, addressing his reader, says: "Closer yet I approach you." The poet is thinking as much of the reader-yet-unborn as the reader, while he reads, is now thinking of the poet. And perhaps now, though he cannot be seen, the poet is watching the reader. The poet is trying to establish a link between himself and his future readers. The link is not only of location (as on the ferry) but of thought processes as well. These thought processes will eventually lead to the mystical fusion between the poet and the reader.

In section 8, Whitman describes the beauty of the Manhattan harbor, the sunset on the river, the seagulls, and the twilight. He realizes that the bonds between himself and other people are subtle but enduring. Between himself and the person who "looks in my face" is the subtlest bond. The union between himself and others cannot be understood in ordinary terms, by teaching, or by preaching — it is more mystical and intuitive. Recalling the scene of the river and the people with whom he was associated, he evokes the spiritual bond that links man with his fellow men. The reference to fusion ("which fuses me into you now") is the basic ideal the poet sought in the beginning. The union with the reader is mystical and beyond the bounds of rational thought or philosophy.

In section 9, the poet invokes the river to flow "with the flood-tide," the clouds to shower upon him and the other passengers, and the "tall masts of Mannahattan" to stand up. He calls on everything — the bird, the sky, and the water — to keep on fulfilling their function with splendor, for everything is part of the universal life flow. The poet desires that the "eternal float of solution" should suspend itself everywhere. Physical objects, like "dumb, beautiful ministers," wait for their union with the poet's soul. Thus, at the end of the poem, Whitman addresses himself to material objects, which are also part of the life process because they are useful to man.

This section is significant in that it uses the language of incantation. The poet invokes the images of his experiences to suggest the flowing of time. The physical existence of man is like a ferry plying between the two shores of mortality and immortality. He and his fancy (his imagination) use objects to express the idea of the search for the eternal beyond the transient. This search, or the function of fancy, is exemplified by the ferry ride which moves from a point in the physical world to a destination in the spiritual world. This journey of the spirit can take place easily in a universe which is harmonious and well adjusted.

 

Themes, Motifs and Symbols

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 CYCLE OF GROWTH AND DEATH

Whitman’s poetry reflects the vitality and growth of the early United States. During the nineteenth century, America expanded at a tremendous rate, and its growth and potential seemed limitless. But sectionalism and the violence of the Civil War threatened to break apart and destroy the boundless possibilities of the United States. As a way of dealing with both the population growth and the massive deaths during the Civil War, Whitman focused on the life cycles of individuals: people are born, they age and reproduce, and they die. Such poems as “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” imagine death as an integral part of life. The speaker of “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” realizes that flowers die in the winter, but they rebloom in the springtime, and he vows to mourn his fallen friends every year just as new buds are appearing. Describing the life cycle of nature helped Whitman contextualize the severe injuries and trauma he witnessed during the Civil War—linking death to life helped give the deaths of so many soldiers meaning.

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” (1). 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.

Motifs

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.

THE HUMAN BODY

Whitman’s poetry revels in its depictions of the human body and the body’s capacity for physical contact. The speaker of “Song of Myself” claims that “copulation is no more rank to me than death is” (521) to demonstrate the naturalness of taking pleasure in the body’s physical possibilities. With physical contact comes spiritual communion: two touching bodies form one individual unit of togetherness. Several poems praise the bodies of both women and men, describing them at work, at play, and interacting. The speaker of “I Sing the Body Electric” (1855) boldly praises the perfection of the human form and worships the body because the body houses the soul. This free expression of sexuality horrified some of Whitman’s early readers, and Whitman was fired from his job at the Indian Bureau in 1865 because the secretary of the interior found Leaves of Grass offensive. Whitman’s unabashed praise of the male form has led many critics to argue that he was homosexual or bisexual, but the repressive culture of the nineteenth century prevented him from truly expressing those feelings in his work.

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. The long lines of such poems as “Song of Myself” and “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” force readers to inhale several bits of text without pausing for breath, and this breathlessness contributes to the incantatory quality of the poems. 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. Elsewhere, however, the repetition and rhythm contribute to an elegiac tone, as in “O Captain! My Captain!” This poem uses short lines and words, such as heart and father, to mournfully incant an elegy for the assassinated Abraham Lincoln.

Symbols

PLANTS

Throughout Whitman’s poetry, plant life symbolizes both growth and multiplicity. Rapid, regular plant growth also stands in for the rapid, regular expansion of the population of the United States. In “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” Whitman uses flowers, bushes, wheat, trees, and other plant life to signify the possibilities of regeneration and re-growth after death. As the speaker mourns the loss of Lincoln, he drops a lilac spray onto the coffin; the act of laying a flower on the coffin not only honors the person who has died but lends death a measure of dignity and respect. The title Leaves of Grass highlights another of Whitman’s themes: the beauty of the individual. Each leaf or blade of grass possesses its own distinct beauty, and together the blades form a beautiful unified whole, an idea Whitman explores in the sixth section of “Song of Myself.” Multiple leaves of grass thus symbolize democracy, another instance of a beautiful whole composed of individual parts. In 1860, Whitman published an edition of Leaves of Grass that included a number of poems celebrating love between men. He titled this section “The Calamus Poems,” after the phallic calamus plant.

THE SELF

Whitman’s interest in the self ties 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.

 

Line by Line- Summary

SECTION 1

Lines 1-2

Flood-tide below me! I watch you, face to face;

Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face to face.

From his ferry, the speaker addresses the water  as "flood-tide" that is rushing by below him. The water is personified with a "face," as are the "clouds" and the "sun" that he sees reflected there.

It's a half an hour from sunset, he notices the "clouds of the west."

Line 3

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious you are to me!

He describes the work attire of the crowds of people on the boat as "the usual costumes," He addresses on the boat, calling them "curious". Our speaker find something noteworthy in.

Lines 4-5

On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,

And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.

The speaker sees the average crowd of commuters on their way home from work as  "more curious” to him than than we suppose.  

Whitman is curious not only about them, but even about the future passengers on the ferry, those who will "cross from shore to shore years hence."

SECTION 2

Line 6

The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day,

The speaker is constantly hungry for the "things" of the world. These things manage to feed him, to give him "sustenance (=food/drink) at all hours of the day."

He doesn't know how they fill his craving: it's mysterious or "impalpable (=unable to be felt by touch)."

Lines 7-8

The simple, compact, well-joined scheme—myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme,

The similitudes of the past, and those of the future,

The speaker describes the world as a larger unity with a "simple, compact well-joined scheme."

Even after his own "disintegration" (death), the speaker expects that the things don't change between past and future, i.e., quality of similitude (=the state of being similar).

Line 9

The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings—on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river,

Everything he sees or hears gives him pleasure, and he compares the objects of his perception to beads on a necklace.

Line 10-12

The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away,

The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them,

The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

The current of the incoming tide that causes the water to rush past him also metaphoricaly represents the distances of time and space that separate the speaker from other people.

He imagines "swimming" with the current and being carried "far away." He expects the future passengers to follow him; and he can see, hear them as well.

The idea that a person can connect past and present, as ferry connects two places is the central of this poem.

Lines 13-19

Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore,

Others will watch the run of the flood-tide,

Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east,

Others will see the islands large and small,

Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high,

A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them,

Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the floodtide, the falling back to the sea of the ebb-tide.

He states that other people will do the exact same thing that he's doing right now – crossing from Manhattan to Brooklyn .

He uses the future passengers as an excuse to describe the present journey. We suppose he's right that the islands, the sunset, and the tides will be around in fifty, a hundred, or even several hundred years.

SECTION 3

Lines 20-21

It avails not, neither time or place—instance avails not,

I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence,

"Avails" means to succeed in doing or accomplishing something; in this case, to succeed in separating people. Fortunately, "neither time nor place […] avails" in that task.

There's no escaping the speaker of this poem. He's connected to everyone of his generation and of future generations.

Lines 22-26

Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,

Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd,

Just as you are refreshed by the gladness of the river, and the bright flow, I was refreshed,

Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried,

Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-stemmed pipes of steamboats, I looked.

He is talking directly to the readers and  reaching them as he says, just as you are: "I was one of a crowd!", taking the readers back and forth.

The speaker has been through spiritual experiences that nobody else understands: the exhilaration of being in a crowd, the thought of being carried away by rushing water, the amazement at a port full of boats.

Whitman is battling against the way people feel disconnected and isolated from one another, even when they are going through the same thing.

Lines 27-30

I too many and many a time cross’d the river of old,

Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high in the air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,

Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in strong shadow,

Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south

Whitman begins using one of his favorite and most famous phrases: "I too." He's trying to draw us into his experience…by pretending that it was really our experience.

Whitman has crossed the river and watched the December seagulls performing aerial acrobatics.

Lines 31-39

Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,

Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,

Looked at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sun-lit water,

Looked on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward,

Looked on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,

Looked toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships,

Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,

Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor,

The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars,

We learn that it's summer, which means the sun is extra bright. The angle of the light as it enters the water creates a kind of halo with "fine centrifugal spokes," which surrounds the shadow of his head.

Aside from this amazing light, the speaker has also seen the hazy hills, the violet-tinged vapor rising from the water, and the sails of ships arriving in port. He can see the sailors hanging out on different parts of the ships.

Lines 40-43

The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants,

The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses,

The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels,

The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set,

He describes the ships: their masts, the way they roll or "swing" on the water, their "serpentine pennants" or the long flags that fly from the masthead, the different-sized steamships, and "the quick tremulous whirl" of the steering wheels as they turned.

Even in the 19th century, New York was a very international port city, so the ships fly "flags of all nations."

Lines 44-45

The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening,

The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite store-houses by the docks,

The shape of the wave reminds the speaker of a scallop shell (=shell that looks like a ruffled potato chip), while the troughs of the waves remind him of "ladled cups" of water. The crests of the waves he calls "frolicsome," or playful.

He looks back toward the shore and the waves become harder and harder to distinguish. His eyes reach the shore and the first thing he sees are the "gray walls of the granite store-houses," where cargo could be unloaded.

Lines 46-48

On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flanked on each side by the barges—the hay-boat, the belated lighter,

On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night,

Casting, their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow light, over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets.

Sky is getting darker as the poem develops. He sees a "shadowy group" of other boats next to the shore, including the "hay boat," which literally carried hay," and a "lighter," which is like a flat-bottomed barge.

Meanwhile, on the shore, business continues after hours. The foundries are up and running, judging from their smoky chimneys. (Foundries produce castings of various kinds of metals and are associated with heavy industry.) The smoke from the chimneys is a "flicker of black" that "contrasts" with the bright fires from the furnaces.

SECTION 4

Line 49

These, and all else, were to me the same as they are to you,

The speaker seems to think we have seen the amazing panorama he just described. In a way, he expects that his experience and similar to you.

Lines 50-52

I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river,

The men and women I saw were all near to me,

Others the same—others who look back on me, because I looked forward to them,

Now the speaker is talking about himself as if he were in the future with us. He felt close to all the people he saw, and even to us future generations.

Line 53

(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)

"The time" refers he is anticipating some time when he will be close to those future people, and the present moment is just a stopping place.

In short, time is no obstacle to the speaker; he just chooses to be in the present.

SECTION 5

Lines 54-55

What is it, then, between us?

What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

He asks, "What is it, then, between us?" He then moves closer to the implicit answer (in next line) of the poem.

Lines 56

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not.

The answer to this question is one of the climaxes of the poem, where he concludes “people can never be divided from one another, neither by distance nor by time in any way”

Lines 57-61

I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,

I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,

I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,

In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,

In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me

Here, we get that classic phrase again: "I too." Just like us, Whitman lived in Brooklyn, walked around Manhattan, and bathed in the East River,

He felt "curious abrupt questionings," in mind about the other passengers on his ship, when he walks home late at night or at night in bed, too.

Lines 62-64

I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,

I too had received identity by my body,

That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body.

 He compares his continuously hammering questions in his mind to the boat on the water which is floating forever.

SECTION 6

Lines 65-68

It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,

The dark threw patches down upon me also,

The best I had done seemed to me blank and suspicious,

My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre?

As the sun sets, the poem continues to get darker. Now the shadows are falling on the speaker, and he interprets these "dark patches" metaphorically as dark thoughts.

One of these thoughts is to question his achievements as essentially empty, or "blank and suspicious." He worries that people will laugh at his thoughts.

Lines 69-77

It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil,

I am he who knew what it was to be evil,

I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,

Blabbed, blushed, resented, lied, stole, grudged,

Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,

Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant,

The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,

The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,

Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting.

In his dark and shadowy thoughts, the speaker says he knows evil as well as we do. He gives us a list, or catalogue, of bad things he has done. They are a fairly typical group of sins, including anger, vanity, and "hot wishes I dared not speak."

He compares himself to animals and says they are "not wanting in me," which means they are not lacking. He says, "I'm not missing these vices," as if they were an essential part of him.

Lines 78-82

Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest,

Was call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing,

Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat,

Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told them a word,

The speaker feels like a native New Yorker, and he's proud of it. Young men shout his name as he walks through the streets. They shout his "nighest name," that refers most closely to his true self.

They put their arms around him like an old pal. He knows lots of people around town, but he "never told them a word" about his inner thoughts.

Lines 82-85

Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping,

Play’d the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,

The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like,

Or as small as we like, or both great and small.

Our public selves are like roles that we perform in daily life in order to fit in. These roles can be big, small, or "both great and small." Our private selves are the part of us we find most difficult to express or feel ashamed to express.

Whitman is all about trying to create an atmosphere where people feel comfortable opening up their private selves to other people.

SECTION 7

Lines 86-88

Closer yet I approach you,

What thought you have of me, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance,

I considered long and seriously of you before you were born.

Now he has made us feel more comfortable by confessing some of his inner thoughts, he inches closer and tries to change the subject to us. He turns the table on the reader, saying that he knows as much about us as we do about him. He thought about us even before we were born.

Lines 89-91

Who was to know what should come home to me?

Who knows but I am enjoying this?

Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me?

He plays with the reader's expectation that we can observe the writer at a safe distance. Reading this poem is like a homecoming, and the speaker is like family. The speaker acts like he can see right through us. We can't hide from him.

SECTION 8

Lines 92-94

Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast-hemm’d Manhattan?

River and sunset and scallop-edg’d waves of flood-tide?

The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter?

What gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach?

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you?

He briefly describes the waves, sea gulls and boats again. He says his spiritual experience on the “ferry” exceeds even the Gods. His connection to other people is more ‘subtle’ than his thoughts. He is trying to pour his meaning into us like water into a glass.

Lines 98-100

We understand, then, do we not?

What I promised without mentioning it, have you not accepted?

What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish is accomplished, is it not?

Speaker believes that we've reached "an understanding." He feels that his poem has fulfilled the goals that teaching and preaching could not.

SECTION 9

Lines 101-105

Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!

Frolic on, crested and scallop-edged waves!

Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me;

Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!

Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!—stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!

He is addressing the things around him, he orders them to do the things (a classic poetic trick).

He summons back all the sights and sounds of the ferryboat, repeating the same language he has used earlier in the poem, like "scallop-edged waves" and "men and women generations after me."

Lines 106-108

Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!

Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!

Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, or public assembly!

He describes his own brain as "baffled and curious" and "throbbing," and the scenery around him as a scientific specimen, suspended for all time in a "float of solution."

Lines 109-119

Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!

Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!

Play the old role, the role that is great or small, according as one makes it!

Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;

Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current;

Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;

Receive the summer-sky, you water! and faithfully hold it, till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you;

Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one's head, in the sun-lit water;

Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sailed schooners, sloops, lighters!

Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lowered at sunset;

Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses!

One by one, he marches through the major images of the poem. It serves to remind the reader of all that came before (recapitulation).

Whereas before he showed things separately, mixed with his own thoughts and commentary, here he combines them into one big picture.

Lines 120-125

Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are;

You necessary film, continue to envelop the Soul;

About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung our divinest aromas;

Thrive, cities! bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers;

Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual;

Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.

These lines return to some of the poem's philosophical themes: that appearances are an indication of a deeper reality, that things are connected by a "necessary film," that nothing is more spiritual than physical reality and everyday objects.

Lines 126-127

You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers!

We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward,

The things of the world have been waiting for us to view them with fresh eyes, or "free sense." Once we have seen them in the right way, we are "insatiate"; literally, we can't get enough.

Incidentally, there's a slight pun here, because the speaker is on a ferry and there are probably real people "waiting" at the other end for the passengers to arrive. But the speaker is addressing not just real people, these things are "dumb" because they aren't literally talking.

Using another comparison to religion, the speaker calls the things "ministers" and "novices." This means they are like both teachers in a religious order and also members-in-training.

Lines 128-130

Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us,

We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us,

We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also,

The basic things in the world have eluded or "foiled" us in the past. But we're going to use these things without throwing them away. We're going to "plant" them inside us like seeds. Even though we don't fully understand or "fathom" these things, we love them anyway and now they are perfect.

Lines 131-132

You furnish your parts toward eternity,

Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the Soul.

All the things of the world provide or "furnish" the parts that make up eternity.

Returning to the distinction between "great and small" – earlier he used these words to describe the roles of actors – he says that everything, no matter what size, provides the parts that make up the unified Soul.

 

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