The Wonderful Walt Whitman Presented by Ms. Roxanne Prisby

So what’s his deal?? Whitman was born in 1819 in a farmhouse on Long Island, during the presidency of James Monroe. He was born into a family of landowners, farmers, builders, and horse breeders who were in both social and economic decline. There were eight Whitman kids. Three were regular chaps growing up on the farm, and four were insane, psychotic, alcoholic, and not too bright. And of course there was Walt.

Did he know from the start? Actually, no. Walt started out like his brothers and sisters, just a kid working on the farm. It came to him at age 37, while on the farm, that he would like to be a great poet for the common people. And so it began. He spent his time working as a printer, schoolteacher, newspaper editor, writer of popular fiction, store keeper, and building contractor.

Wartime Poet Whitman was heavily influenced by the Civil War that was being waged during his life. He loved Abraham Lincoln very dearly. One “chapter” of his great work, Leaves of Grass, is entitled “Memories of President Lincoln”, and includes the famous “O Captain! My Captain!” (the only one of his poems to be included in anthologies during his lifetime; Whitman later regretted writing the poem). There was also a chapter called “Drum Taps”, a collection of poems in response to the war. Whitman served as volunteer nurse (or a “wound dresser”) during the war. Whitman considered himself a poet of the times.

“Poetry of America in the American Language” Leaves of Grass was first published in It introduced new and transcendental ideas, such as the celebration of the self. Whitman’s poetry did not appeal to many readers because of his complete rejection of accepted poetic styles. In the first publication of Leaves of Grass, the only indication of the author was a rough sketch, until the very last page. How unconventional!!

Not your typical poetry collection. Rather than publishing new poetry collections, Whitman decided to perfect his first publication. He spent the rest of his life revising Leaves of Grass, and publishing new and improved editions. He had released seven versions of the book by the time of his death. The first edition of Leaves of Grass created quite a stir.

Dear Sir, I am not blind to the worth of the wonderful gift of “Leaves of Grass.” I find it the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that America has yet contributed. I am very happy in reading it, as great power makes us happy. It meets the demand I am always making of what seemed the sterile and stingy nature, as if too much handiwork, or too much lymph in the temperament, were making our western wits fat and mean. I give you joy of your free and brave thought. I have great joy in it. I find incomparable things said incomparably well, as they must be. I find the courage of treatment which so delights us, and which large perception only can inspire. I greet you at the beginning of a great career, which yet must have had a long foreground somewhere, for such a start. I rubbed my eyes a little, to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is a sober certainty. It has the best merits, namely, of fortifying and encouraging. I did not know until I last night saw the book advertised in a newspaper that I could trust the name as real and available for a post-office. I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you my respects. R. W. Emerson

“That was wrong, very wrong indeed.” (Emerson) In response to criticism of Leaves of Grass, Whitman decided to release Emerson’s private letter to the public. Emerson, of course, was not happy, but he should have known better. Whitman loved to create controversy and publicity. He even went so far as to write anonymous reviews for his work (always raving). “The public is a thick skinned beast, and you have to keep whacking it on its hide to let it know you’re there.” Whitman told the press he was a prophet of individuality.

Whitman suffered a stroke in He lived out the rest of his life in Camden, New Jersey. In 1892, he released the final version of Leaves of Grass. He was 72 years old. Had he not died that year, perhaps there would have been more revisions. This picture appeared on the inside cover of the first edition of Leaves of Grass.

“No book on earth had such a history.” “Walt Whitman wishes respectfully to notify the public that the book Leaves of Grass, which he has been working on at great intervals and partially issued for the past thirty-five or forty years, is now completed, so to call it, and he would like this new 1892 edition to absolutely supersede all previous ones. Faulty as it is, he decides it is by far his special and entire self- chosen poetic utterance.” (prepared announcement for the press, January, 1892)

Song of Myself (I) I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.

Song of the Universal (I) Come said the Muse, Sing me a song no poet yet has chanted, Sing me the universal. In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed perfection. By every life a share or more or less, None born but it is born, conceal’d or unconceal’d the seed is waiting.

Whitman’s writing. Whitman had a characteristic way of throwing conventional poetry writing out the window. Looking at his work now, it seems like the work of many other free verse poets. But what Whitman was doing was brand new; he was paving the way for future poets, including the poets of our era. He mostly wrote free verse, but he absolutely did not limit himself to that. In his work, you can find all different sort of rhyme schemes, and many varieties of free verse. Much of his writing focused on nature, individuality, war, the middle class worker, and the common man.