O troubled reflection in the sea! It showed a man clearly grayer, heavier, and fleshier than the rugged workingman pose he had struck for the two previous editions, a sensitive, vulnerable, inward-looking man rather than the self-confident, assertive man of the people of 1855-6. This poem of poetic calling does not end in the denial of time that Bloom's theory requires. Now she invites the poet to awaken to a new world. The poem is very melodious and rhythmic and may itself be compared to an aria in opera, an aria is an elaborate melody sung by one voice. These are perhaps the most brilliant features of this passage. Pierce the woods, the earth; Somewhere listening to catch you, must be the one I want. In the final stanza, the song of death enters into this system: Which I do not forget, But fuse the song of two together, That was sung to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's gray beach, With the thousand responsive songs, at random, My own songs, awakened from that hour, And with them the key, the word up from the waves, The word of the sweetest song, and all songs, That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet, The sea whispered me.
I would say with Robert Graves that there is a rhythm of emotions that conditions the musical rhythms, that mental bracing and relaxing which comes to us through our sensuous impressions. All of the prepositions denote a starting point, a point of departure, and they indicate a multitude of sources for the genesis of the poet. A word then, for I will conquer it, The word final, superior to all, Subtle, sent up-what is it? The lamentation of the bird touched him deeply. In this way, feeling-presence is preserved, and Whitman's unique experience stays permanently fixed as the central force guiding readers' understanding. With no reader as intermediary, with no addressee outside of the poem, the lines of the poem are all self-contained. The curtains part in the spring: in the fifth month, as the Quakers referred to the month of May.
The interpreted meanings of the theme from the poems were greatly different. Although the poem may say something about the origins of Whitman's art, the interaction between bird and boy is less an enactment of Whitman's emergence as a poet than it is a dramatization of his reemergence as a poet after his crisis of the late 1850s. . Hiqh and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, Surely you must know who is here, is here, You must know who I am, my love. What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? Yes my brother I know, The rest might not, but I have treasur'd every note, For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding, Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, Listen'd long and long. As an elegy, this poem has following features; death of some dear one, here the death of the female bird, as the main subject of the poem.
Is that it from your liquid rims and wet sands? The ocean becomes an important element of the poem—acting as both a main character and the vehicle through which Whitman makes his discovery. At each reading fresh beauties revealed themselves to me. The female bird fails to appear one day, and the male bird cries out for her. Pierce the woods, the earth, Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want. A young boy watches a pair of birds nesting on the beach near his home, and marvels at their relationship to one another.
He even hopes that his beloved will rise at the shining stars. One day the female bird fails to return. The sexual drive initiates self-preservation and erotic instincts, while the death drive moves toward self-destruction and aggression. Pour down your warmth, great sun! For Whitman death is not the end of life, but the beginning of another form of life. We two together no more. No longer a communal singer of harmony and joy, the bird now comes closer to the neurosis and solipsism of one of Poe's lovelorn characters, tossing himself frantically on the grave of his beloved.
That act, stripped of its modifiers, consists simply of a single grammatical statement: I sing a reminiscence. He call'd on his mate, He pour'd forth the meanings which I of all men know. The center of the poem is not words, but a movement outward through words. Lisp'd to me the low and delicious word death, And again, death, death, death, death, Hissing melodious, neither like the bird nor like my arous'd child's heart, But edging near as privately for me rustling at my feet, Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over, Death, death, death, death, death. This return is prompted by the signs, particularly that of death, beyond which he must leap to bring forth his memorial song. And thenceforward, all summer, in the sound of the sea, And at night, under the full of the moon, in calmer weather, Over the hoarse surging of the sea, Or flitting from brier to brier by day, I saw, I heard at intervals, the remaining one, the he-bird, The solitary guest from Alabama. To verbalize feeling involves discipline, vision, and the ability to formalize the informal.
Second, it must be retranslated. Rhetoric comes into play here, the radical of presentation, the rhythm of words creating a deep sensation in the reader. As almost all the elegy has the consolation through the realization that death is final and superior, this poem too has the ending with the poet and the lone bird realizing the final truth of the death. Here death is shown to be the one lesson a child must learn, whether from nature or from an elder. What is at stake in Bloom's reading is the psyche of the poet, which he fears, and correctly so, I might add, is being threatened by the critical projects of de Man and Derrida.
The death that he saw during this time provided him with inspiration in his poetry and ideas and thoughts about death. Although the adult claims to transcend language, or the hints that first stir his memory, the child refuses anything of the sort. While we bask, we two together. In a touching and loving apostrophe to the bird, he says: O you singer solitary, singing by yourself, projecting me, O solitary me listening, never more shall I cease perpetuating you. After a stroke in 1873, which left him partially paralyzed, Whitman lived his next 20 years with his brother, writing mainly prose, such as Democratic Vistas 1870.
In other words, he opposes Coleridgean symbolism to de Manian allegory. Once articulation has taken the place of pure, undifferentiated feeling, one can never return to the simplicity of primitive, instinctual action and perception. Singing brings about more songs, not an end of singing, which a recuperation would accomplish. Yes, my brother, I know, The rest might not--but I have treasured every note. By 1860, Whitman had already enough years of life and poetic experience behind him to know that his present and future would also have to take into consideration his past, and so he was now given to reviewing his personal and poetic history.
Despite being written four decades apart… 902 Words 4 Pages Whitman's Interpretation of Emerson Walt Whitman was able to take the spark of an idea from Ralph Waldo Emerson and tend, nurture, and support it until the spark grew into a huge flame of something surprising and original - new American poetry. O you singer, , singing by yourselfprojecting me; O solitary me, listeningnevermore shall I cease perpetuating you; Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations, Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me, Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night, By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon, The messenger there the fire, the sweet hell within, The unknown want, the destiny of me. The problem with this interpretation is that it presupposes a primal time of innocence, a state of mind in which the child experiences his surroundings with an unmediated vision, before cultural impositions or Freud's Civilization and Its Discontents fetter his consciousness and exile him from an unconscious participation in the world. Yes my brother I know, The rest might not, but I have treasur'd every note, For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding, Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, Listen'd long and long. With this just-sustain'd note I announce myself to you, This gentle call is for you my love, for you. Which I do not forget, But fuse the song of my dusky demon and , That he sang to in the moonlight on Paumanoks gray beach, With the thousand responsive songs, at random, My own songs, awaked from that hour; And with them the key, the word up from the waves, The word of the sweetest song, and all songs, That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet, The sea whisperd me. O how joys, dreads, convolutions, human shapes, and all shapes, spring as from graves around me! It becomes increasingly uncertain at this point who speaks: is it the boy, his soul or the adult? He calld on his mate; He pourd forth the meanings which I, of all men, know.