70
(p. 475)
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d:
In 1865-1866, lines 9—13 of what is now section 16 read as follows:
Must I leave thee, lilac with heart-shaped leaves?
Must I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning
with spring?
Must I pass 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?
These dramatic questions reflect Whitman’s immediate and utter despondency over the loss of his “redeemer president.” Whitman had first seen Lincoln on February 19, 1861—Lincoln’s second visit to New York City. From the top of an omnibus gridlocked in traffic, Whitman had a “capital view” of Lincoln despite the crowd of about 40,000 gathered to see him. And so began Whitman’s fascination with Lincoln, a representation of the poet’s supreme values for humanity, both political and personal (some critics have suggested that the poet may have even had a “crush” on the president). When he was working in Washington, Whitman allegedly waited by the White House gates just to catch a glimpse of Lincoln when he stepped out. In a lecture entitled “Death of Abraham Lincoln” delivered several times between 1879 and 1881 (and recorded in
Collect,
the literary miscellany included in
Specimen Days and Collect
of 1882), Whitman concluded : “Dear to the Muse—thrice dear to Nationality—to the whole human race—precious to the Union—precious to Democracy—unspeakably and forever precious—their first great Martyr Chief ”
As for the strong symbols of the lilac sprig (Whitman’s love for the president) and the star (Lincoln himself) used throughout, Whitman was struck by two particular visions in the month before the assassination: the lilacs that bloomed early due to an unusually warm spring, and the beauty of Venus sinking into the west. The thrush resembles the “solitary singer” of “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking,” a fig uration of Whitman as “chanter of songs.”
71
(p. 476)
Night and day journeys a coffin:
In sections 5 and 6, the poet describes the procession of Lincoln’s funeral train from Washington to Springfield, Illinois. Nine railroad cars draped in black traveled the 1,662 miles to Lincoln’s hometown, and 7 million Americans gathered alongside the tracks to watch it pass.
72
(p. 481) Come lovely and soothing death: As in “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” (p. 400), the bird’s voice is set in italics. Whitman did not use italics in the first publication of “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”
73
(p. 484)
O Captain!
My
Captain!:
The most popular of Whitman’s poems is also uncharacteristic of his style. Whitman grew to dislike the poem and its clumsy attempt at regularity. “The thing that tantalizes me most is not its rhythmic imperfection or its imperfection as a ballad or rhymed poem (it is damned bad in all that, I do believe) but the fact that my enemies and some of my friends who half doubt me, look upon it as a concession made to the philistines—that makes me mad,” he told his friend Horace Traubel (see
With Walt Whitman in Camden,
vol. 2, p. 333).
74
(p. 485)
By Blue Ontario’s Shore:
From its first appearance in 1856, this poem has functioned as Whitman’s definitive social statement. In 1856 it constituted a broad directive for how the country might be unified; the poem echoed many of the commands of the “[Preface]” (p. 7) and actually used or modified many of its most powerful statements. Section 14 of “By Blue Ontario’s Shore,” for example, places Whitman’s well-known passage from the “[Preface]” (the lines beginning with “This is what you shall do,” p. 13) in a poetic format.
Whitman continued to revise this poem through subsequent editions, adding historical detail and topical references, and the changes between editions are interesting to note. Consider section 7, for example; this angry indictment of Southern slave-owners was added only for the 1867
Leaves of Grass.
75
(p. 501)
Reversals:
“Reversals” is a fitting name for this poem, since the commands are either “reversals” or seem to oppose Whitman’s typical commands; however, “Respondez,” the title it carried in the 1867, 1871, and 1876 editions, also fits the deliberately provocative nature of Whitman’s indictments.
76
(p. 502)
Autumn Rivulets:
Like the three clusters that followed it in 1881 (“Whispers of Heavenly Death,” “From Noon to Starry Night,” and “Songs of Parting”), “Autumn Rivulets” has a title that reflects the poet’s sense of impending death. His personal history provides a clear indication of why mortality was so much on his mind at this time. Beginning in his fifties, Whitman was plagued with health problems and emotional trials: He suffered a paralytic stroke in January 18 and his mother died in May of that year; he became involved in an ill-fated relationship with Harry Stafford in 1876; and he was taken ill again in 1879 while traveling west.
Despite the aches of his deteriorating body and a heavy heart, Whitman rarely brought a sense of hopelessness or sadness to these late collections. Many of the poems he selected to include in them focus on the themes of immortality and the cycles of life. The selections exhibit a thoughtful “backward glance” at a life that spanned the nineteenth century, and a sense that Whitman saw a progression and continuance in his own career as poet.
77
(p. 502)
As Consequent,
Etc.: Notable are Whitman’s use of the “rivulets” metaphor, an old-age echo of his image of the American poet in the 1855 “[Preface]:” “His spirit responds to his country’s spirit ... he incarnates its geography and natural life and rivers and lakes” (p. 9). The “windrow-drift of weeds and shells” are the scenes of American life “washed up” by the poet’s “currents.”
78
(p. 511)
Old Ireland:
This is Whitman’s single poem on the Irish, which is surprising in that they were the largest group of working-class immigrants during Whitman’s New York years. In
Whitman and the Irish
(Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2000, p. xii), Joann Krieg notes that a full 30 percent of New York’s population in 1855 were Irish by birth. Though “Old Ireland” is a sympathetic portrait of the Irish and the revolutionary organization the Fenian Brotherhood, Krieg and others have wondered at Whitman’s silence regarding this important population in his city.
79
(p. 517)
Song of Prudence:
Like “By Blue Ontario’s Shore” (p. 485), “Song of Prudence” is greatly influenced by the language of the 1855 “[Preface].” See the passage on prudence—undoubtedly inspired by Emerson’s essay “Prudence”—which begins on page 21; the section beginning “Only the soul is of itself (p. 22) corresponds with Whitman’s third stanza here. The fine line between Whitman’s prose and poetry is particularly interesting to note in this case.
80
(p. 520)
The Singer in the Prison:
This is one of the three poems in this cluster—along with “Vocalism” (p. 526), “Italian Music in Dakota” (p. 541), and ”Proud Music of the Storm“ (p. 543)—to be inspired specifically by the power of music, and one of the very few poems in Whitman’s entire oeuvre to be inspired by a particular event (”When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom‘d,” on page 475, is probably the best-known example). Whitman is said to have attended a concert given by the Italian tenor Carl Parepa-Rosa at a New York prison in 1869.
81
(p. 533)
Unfolded Out of the Folds:
The 1881 publication of the poem garnered this celebration of womanhood more attention than had its previous revisions: It was one of the poems (along with ”The Sleepers,“ also included in the “Autumn Rivulets” cluster) that was considered indecent by Boston district attorney Oliver Stevens. Before the D.A. would allow publication of this edition, he asked publisher James R. Osgood to alter and omit particular lines of ”Unfolded Out of the Folds.”
82
(p. 537)
O Star of France:
As the subtitle suggests, Whitman wrote this poem in 1871 as a reaction to the defeat of France in the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1871).
83
(p. 541)
Italian Music in Dakota:
An enthusiastic fan of Italian opera since the 1840S, Whitman mentions three of his favorites; the military band of the subtitle probably played the overtures. His taste for European opera, which always seemed in conflict with his support for an independent American culture, here finds resolution: The music of Vincenzo Bellini (1801-1835; composer of
Norma
and
La Sonnambula)
and Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848;
Poliuto)
sound as “native” as the natural sounds of the Dakota plains.
84
(p. 543)
Proud Music of the Storm:
In
Walt Whitman and Opera
(pp. 103—105), Robert Faner describes section 3 of the poem as Whitman’s “musical autobiography”: The poet recounts that his love of music developed from his mother’s lullabies through the folk songs of his youth to his love of Italian opera. Critics have also commented on the poem’s “symphonic structure” and musical rhythms, though Whitman himself admitted he was a musical illiterate who could not carry a tune.
85
(p. 549)
Passage to India:
A celebration of progress and modern life, ”Passage to India“ reflects Whitman’s admiration of Columbus in its title (see “Prayer of Columbus,” below). He praises the accomplishments of explorers, engineers, architects, and inventors throughout, with special emphasis on the three grand achievements in lines 5, 6, and 7: the Suez canal (opened in 1869), the transcontinental railroad (Union Pacific and Central Pacific lines were joined in 1869), and the transatlantic cable (laid in 1866). Machines and the workings of man ”connect“ humanity here—a very different message from the more spiritual, poet-centered proclamations of the 1855 poems.
86
(p. 558)
Prayer of Columbus :
The poet here assumes the voice of Columbus, who was imprisoned after his third voyage and plagued by ill health before his death. Whitman’s admiration for the explorer leads to strong identification with him. Like Columbus, the aging poet had not gained the widespread appeal he had hoped for, and in 1873 Whitman suffered a paralytic stroke that brought on dizzy spells for the better part of a year.
87
(p. 560)
The Sleepers:
See notes 33-39 to the First Edition. This final version of ”The Sleepers,“ prepared for the 1881 edition of
Leaves of Grass,
excludes two notable paragraphs from the original work: the ”discovery and mortification“ passage (”O hotcheeked and blushing!“, p. 111), and the ”black Lucifer“ passage (”Now Lucifer was not dead“, p. 115). The omission of these highly charged, sexual (and politically radical, in the case of the plotting slave Lucifer) passages is a typical ”late style“ revision, as is the refigured punctuation (dashes and periods substitute for the original ellipses). The numbering of the passages is a later addition as well.
88
(p. 570)
To Think of Time:
A comparison of this poem with its first incarnation (p. 102) reveals much about Whitman’s changing editorial practices.
89
(p. 577)
Whispers of Heavenly Death:
The poems of ”Whispers of Heavenly Death“ are taken from several editions, though not so many as were used for ”Autumn Rivulets“; nine of the eighteen are from the 1860 edition. Like the other clusters new to the 1881 edition, this one shows Whitman in a philosophical, almost mystical mode. The word ”soul“ predominates among the eighteen works.
90
(p. 577)
Whispers of Heavenly Death:
This poem is interesting for its use of female-based imagery for night (”labial gossip,“ ”sibilant chorals“), which connects with the final ”birthing“ metaphor.
91
(p. 578)
Chanting the Square Deific:
The first of the allusions to the ”square deific,“ this poem is divided into four parts: The first describes four supreme authority figures (the god of the Hebrews, Jehovah; the Hindu supreme spirit, Brahma; the Roman god Saturnius, or Saturn; and the Greek god Kronos); the second part details divinities of sacrifice and love; the third, Satan; and the fourth, the Christian idea of the Holy Spirit.
92
(p. 580)
Of Him I Love Day and Night:
The poem’s themes make it a good fit for the provocative ”Calamus“ series, but a better match for this soul-searching group of poems. It’s interesting to compare ”Of Him I Love Day and Night“ with Wordsworth’s ”Lucy“ poems.
93
(p. 582)
Assurances:
The poem defies its title by including a negative statement in each of its twelve lines.
94
(p. 583)
That Music Always Round Me:
This poem is one of several in which Whitman celebrates the power of music (specifically opera or vocal music). See also ”The Dead Tenor“ (p. 648), ”The Mystic Trumpeter“ (p. 600), ”To a Certain Cantatrice“ (p. 173), ”Proud Music of the Storm“ (p. 543), and ”Italian Music in Dakota“ (p. 541)-
95
(p. 584)
A Noiseless Patient Spider:
See the ”Publication Information“ note for ”Darest Thou Now O Soul“ (p. 577). Whitman’s use of an unusually easy to understand metaphor (the spider’s creation of a web for the soul’s exploration of space and time) has made this poem a popular favorite.
96
(p. 595)
From Noon to Starry Night:
The idea of the title begins with the high noon described in the first poem (”Thou Orb Aloft Full-Dazzling“) and ends with the vision of ”A Clear Midnight“ (p. 617). The poems also follow Whitman’s career from his ”noon“ on through the evening of his life, with poems selected from the First Edition as well as new works for 1881. In addition to a feeling of time that has passed, these poems convey a sense of great distances crossed: from south to north, Spain to Colorado, and back to Whitman’s beloved Mannahatta.
97
(p. 596)
Faces:
Among the faces described are several possible family members, including Whitman’s brother Eddie, who was possibly retarded or epileptic (the ”idiot“ of section 3), and his grandmother (the woman wearing a Quaker cap in section 5).