Maggie's FarmWe are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for. |
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Saturday, June 15. 2013Saturday Verse: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)From Leaves of Grass, #82, Song of the Open Road AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road, Whitman worked on his collection of poems, Leaves of Grass, for almost 50 years, until his death. There were continual revisions and additions to the various editions of the remarkable and somewhat scandalous book. Whitman, like the "I" in the poems, was a self-invented American Everyman, and he fully believed that it was his destiny to write the Great American Epic Poem. It's not one story, but I think he did write an epic in spirit. It's fun to look at, and to read about, this collection of Whitman photos. 4
The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, 40 The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road. O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me? Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost? Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me? O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you; 45 You express me better than I can express myself; You shall be more to me than my poem. I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all great poems also; I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles; (My judgments, thoughts, I henceforth try by the open air, the road;) 50 I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me; I think whoever I see must be happy. 5 From this hour, freedom! From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute, 55 Listening to others, and considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. I inhale great draughts of space; The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine. 60 I am larger, better than I thought; I did not know I held so much goodness. All seems beautiful to me; I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me, I would do the same to you. I will recruit for myself and you as I go; 65 I will scatter myself among men and women as I go; I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them; Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me; Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me. 6 Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me; 70 Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me. Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth. Here a great personal deed has room; A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men, 75 Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law, and mocks all authority and all argument against it. Here is the test of wisdom; Wisdom is not finally tested in schools; Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it, to another not having it; Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, 80 Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things; Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the Soul. Now I reëxamine philosophies and religions, They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds, and along the landscape and flowing currents. 85 Here is realization; Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him; The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them. Only the kernel of every object nourishes; Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? 90 Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me? Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously fashion’d—it is apropos; Do you know what it is, as you pass, to be loved by strangers? Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls? 7 Here is the efflux of the Soul; 95 The efflux of the Soul comes from within, through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions: These yearnings, why are they? These thoughts in the darkness, why are they? Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood? Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under, but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? 100 (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;) What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers? What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his side? What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the shore, as I walk by, and pause? What gives me to be free to a woman’s or man’s good-will? What gives them to be free to mine? 105 8 The efflux of the Soul is happiness—here is happiness; I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times; Now it flows unto us—we are rightly charged. Here rises the fluid and attaching character; The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman; 110 (The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.) Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old; From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments; Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact. 9 Allons! whoever you are, come travel with me! 115 Traveling with me, you find what never tires. The earth never tires; The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first—Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first; Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine things, well envelop’d; I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell. 120 Allons! we must not stop here! However sweet these laid-up stores—however convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain here; However shelter’d this port, and however calm these waters, we must not anchor here; However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, we are permitted to receive it but a little while. 10 Allons! the inducements shall be greater; 125 We will sail pathless and wild seas; We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail. Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements! Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity; Allons! from all formules! 130 From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests! The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer. Allons! yet take warning! He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance; None may come to the trial, till he or she bring courage and health. 135 Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself; Only those may come, who come in sweet and determin’d bodies; No diseas’d person—no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here. I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes; We convince by our presence. 140 11 Listen! I will be honest with you; I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes; These are the days that must happen to you: You shall not heap up what is call’d riches, You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, 145 You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart, You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you; What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting, You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you. 12 Allons! after the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong to them! 150 They too are on the road! they are the swift and majestic men; they are the greatest women. Over that which hinder’d them—over that which retarded—passing impediments large or small, Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful virtues, Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas, Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land, 155 Habitués of many distant countries, habitués of far-distant dwellings, Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers, Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore, Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children, Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers down of coffins, 160 Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years—the curious years, each emerging from that which preceded it, Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own diverse phases, Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days, Journeyers gayly with their own youth—Journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood, Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content, 165 Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood, Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death. 13 Allons! to that which is endless, as it was beginningless, To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, 170 To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to, Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys; To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it, To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you—however long, but it stretches and waits for you; 175 To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither, To see no possession but you may possess it—enjoying all without labor or purchase—abstracting the feast, yet not abstracting one particle of it; To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens, To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through, To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go, 180 To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them—to gather the love out of their hearts, To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you, To know the universe itself as a road—as many roads—as roads for traveling souls. 14 The Soul travels; The body does not travel as much as the soul; 185 The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul. All parts away for the progress of souls; All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of Souls along the grand roads of the universe. Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance. Forever alive, forever forward, 190 Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied, Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men, They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go; But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great. 15 Allons! whoever you are! come forth! 195 You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you. Allons! out of the dark confinement! It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it. Behold, through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people, 200 Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces, Behold a secret silent loathing and despair. No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession; Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes, Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors, 205 In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly, Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere, Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones, Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers, Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, 210 Speaking of anything else, but never of itself. 16 Allons! through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded. Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? nature? 215 Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary. My call is the call of battle—I nourish active rebellion; He going with me must go well arm’d; He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions. 17 Allons! the road is before us! 220 It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well. Allons! be not detain’d! Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d! Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d! Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! 225 Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law. Mon enfant! I give you my hand! I give you my love, more precious than money, I give you myself, before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? 230 Shall we stick by each other as long as we live? Trackbacks
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"Whitman worked on his collection of poems, Leaves of Grass, for almost 50 years, until his death...."
True enough but he did not, alas, improve it. The 1855 edition, aka the first edition, remains the one closest to the original transmission. It is the "epic." Whitman's efforts merely gave him something to do in his long life as, in the end, revered bard. In reality all he could do was debase it. If the boy had been been blessed birth a couple hundred years advanced he'd be a boy scout, me thinks.
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