Presentation on theme: "Walt Whitman. BORN ON LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK IN 1819 WAS ONE OF NINE CHILDREN STARTED WORK AS A PRINTER AT 12 STARTED WORK AS A TEACHER AT 17 "— Presentation transcript:
BORN ON LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK IN 1819 WAS ONE OF NINE CHILDREN STARTED WORK AS A PRINTER AT 12 STARTED WORK AS A TEACHER AT 17 STARTED HIS OWN NEWSPAPER SOLD THE PUBLICATION AND WORKED AS AN EDITOR Walt Whitman’s Life
MOVED TO WASHINGTON DC TO WORK AS A VOLUNTEER NURSE FOR CIVIL WAR SOLDIERS TRAVELED AROUND THE COUNTRY AND SPOKE AS A RENOWNED POET MOVED TO CAMDEN, NEW JERSEY HAD A STROKE AND COULD NOT LEAVE CAMDEN WROTE UNTIL HIS DEATH ON MARCH 26 TH, 1892 Walt Whitman’s Life
KNOWN AS THE FATHER OF AMERICAN FREE VERSE FREE VERSE: LACKS A CONSISTENT STRUCTURE, RHYTHM, OR METER FAMOUS WORKS: LEAVES OF GRASS, A COLLECTION OF LONG AND SHORT FREE VERSE POEMS LEAVES OF GRASS FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1855, LAST PUBLISHED IN 1892 EACH TIME PUBLISHED, IT CONTAINED MORE POEMS Walt Whitman’s Poetry and Legacy
MOST FAMOUS POEM: “SONG OF MYSELF” “SONG OF MYSELF”: 52 SECTIONS LONG BELIEVED IN CONNECTION BETWEEN POETS AND SOCIETY FRIEND OF WHITMAN: “YOU CANNOT REALLY UNDERSTAND AMERICA WITHOUT WALT WHITMAN [AND] WITHOUT LEAVES OF GRASS.” Walt Whitman’s Poetry and Legacy
From “Song of Myself” 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 form 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.
From “A child said, What is the grass?” A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? … I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped, Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we May see and remark, and say Whose?