Thoughts
at the
Margins
by Walt Whitman
GRASS
LEAVES OF
LEAVES OF GRASS Thoughts
at the
Margins
by Walt Whitman
LEAVES OF GRASS by Walt Whitman
HALLOWEEN Publishing 2017 Copyright © 2017 by Kaitlin Meinders
Table
of
Contents
Leaves of Grass: Thoughts at the Margins is an anthology book of selected poems written by Walt Whitman.
Introduction
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The Ship Starting Shut Not Your Doors When I Heard at the Close of the Day On the Beach at Night Alone I Hear America Singing Facing West from California’s Shores Beginning My Studies Beginners When I Read the Book To You
6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
Index / Bibliography
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Leaves of Grass: Thoughts at the Margins is an anthology book of selected poems written by Walt Whitman.
5
The Ship Starting
L
o, the unbounded sea, On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even her moonsails.
The pennant is flying aloft as she speeds she speeds so stately— below emulous waves press forward, They surround the ship with shining curving motions and foam.
This poem reminded me that new beginnings are a good thing. They can grow quickly and lead us to better opportunities.
6
Shut Not Your Doors
S
hut not your doors to me proud libraries, For that which was lacking on all your well-fill’d shelves, yet needed most, I bring, Forth from the war emerging, a book I have made, The words of my book nothing, the drift of it every thing, A book separate, not link’d with the rest nor felt by the intellect, But you ye untold latencies will thrill to every page.
The world’s oldest library is at the St. Catherine’s Monastery in Sinai, Egypt. The most stolen library book is the Bible with the second most stolen book being the Guinness World Records book.
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When I Heard at the Close of the Day
W
8
hen I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy night for me that follow’d, And else when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I was not happy, But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health, refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn, When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the morning light, When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way coming, O then I was happy, O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food nourish’d me more, and the beautiful day pass’d well, And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening came my friend, And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores, I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me whispering to congratulate me, For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night, In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me, And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.
On the Beach at Night Alone
O
n the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song, As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.
A vast similitude interlocks all, All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, All distances of place however wide, All distances of time, all inanimate forms, All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different, or in different worlds, All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes, All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages, All identities that have existed or may exist on this globe, or any globe, All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future, This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them.
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I Hear America Singing
I
hear America singing, the varied carols I hear, Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work, The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck, The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands, The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown, The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing, Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else, The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
10
Facing West from California’s Shores
F
acing west from California’s shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the land of migrations, look afar, Look off the shores of my Western sea, the circle almost circled; For starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere, From Asia, from the north, from the God, the sage, and the hero, From the south, from the flowery peninsulas and the spice islands, Long having wander’d since, round the earth having wander’d, Now I face home again, very pleas’d and joyous, (But where is what I started for so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?)
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Beginning My Studies
B
eginning my studies the first step pleas’d me so much, The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the power of motion,
The least insect or animal, the senses, eyesight, love, The first step I say awed me and pleas’d me so much, I have hardly gone and hardly wish’d to go any farther, But stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.
I think beginning anything new can be very exciting. For me, changing my major to Art Education was exciting and felt right.
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Beginners
H
ow they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals,) How dear and dreadful they are to the earth, How they inure to themselves as much as to any—what a paradox appears their age, How people respond to them, yet know them not, How there is something relentless in their fate all times, How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward, And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same great purchase.
13
When I Read the Book
W
hen I read the book, the biography famous, And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man’s life? And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life? (As if any man really knew aught of my life, Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to trace out here.)
I always say if a person doen’t like reading books, it’s because they haven’t found the right one yet. Whitman does make an interesting point though -in that how can one truely know another if they aren’t them, and especially if that person doesn’t know themselves inside.
14
To You
S
tranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?
Today in our world, many people hesitate based on fear instilled in us at a young age. Some of us are fearful of those different than us and than our own culture.
15
Index
The Ship Starting Shut Not Your Doors When I Heard at the Close of the Day On the Beach at Night Alone I Hear America Singing Facing West from California’s Shores Beginning My Studies Beginners When I Read the Book To You
6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
Bibliography: Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Project Gutenberg EBook. Release date: August 24, 2008 [EBook #1322]
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