Walter Whitman was a poet of the 1800’s. He was born in West Hill, Long Island on May 31, 1819. When he published his first book, Whitman abandoned the name “Walter” for “Walt.” The first book of exclusively poetry that Whitman wrote was Leaves of Grass, which he revised many times. Walt Whitman sought to have a personal relationship with his readers. He was known as “An American, one of the roughs, a kosmos” (Academic American Encyclopedia, 140). His viewpoint on many political issues, and his outlook on life, were reflected in his writings and set him apart from other poets of that time.
When Walt Whitman was eleven years old, he started to learn printing and was associated for many years as a printer, journalist, and newspaper editor. He taught school in Long Island by the time he was seventeen. From the years of 1838-39 he edited the weekly newspaper “The Long Islander.” From there, he drifted between jobs for ten years, often losing newspaper posts because of his political views. Occasionally, he taught school, wrote short stories and poems for magazines, edited newspapers like the New York “Aurora,” “Evening Tattler,” and the “Brooklyn Daily Eagle.” Because he was a contributor to the New Orleans “Crescent”, he traveled south, and later in his poetry, extolled his first experiences of the vastness of the United States. About the year 1850, Whitman returned home and helped with his father’s building business, until his dad’s death in 1855.
Whitman paid for, and partially typeset, Leaves of Grass himself. This book included “Song of Myself,” that launched his career as a poet. This first book by Walt Whitman, however, was not well received. Because of his irregular poetry and candid anatomical references, his writings antagonized many early readers. Before the Civil War, Whitman expanded and revised Leaves of Grass, while supporting himself by freelance journalism. In 1862 he went to the battle front in Virginia, and was a nurse to the soldiers. He then returned to Washington and worked in various government jobs. In 1865, he printed poems in Drum-Taps. These poems were based on his experiences in the war. Sequel to Drum-Taps had two of his most famous works in it, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” and “O Captain! My Captain!”, which commemorated Lincoln’s death. A prose volume, Democratic Vistas followed a few years later.
Whitman stayed in Washington until 1873. When he suffered a stroke that left him permanently crippled, he moved to Camden, New Jersey, until he died on March 26, 1892. Whitman never again held a job, and supported himself by publishing his own works and writing for newspapers and magazines. He was constantly expanding Leaves of Grass, which slowly became known in the United States and abroad. He was now an acknowledged literary figure; personally and poetically revered. He collected autobiographical reminiscences in Specimen Days and Collect, which included the earlier Memoranda During the War.
Whitman created poetry that would reflect the American melting pot of races and nationalities, the democratic aspirations of the people, and the physical vastness of the United States of America. To do this, Whitman replaced the traditional English form and meter with a rhythmic unit based on the meaning and natural flow of the lines. The subject matter he used was as free as the people and included topics that were generally avoided by the other poets of that time; things like common place experiences, labor, and sexuality. Even today, “Whitman remains the nation’s great celebrator and affirmer of democracy, freedom, the self, and the joys of living” (Academic American Encyclopedia, 141).
Beat! beat! drums!-blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows-through doors-burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet-no happiness must he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums-so shrill you bugles blow.
Beat! beat! drums!-blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities-over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers' bargains by day-no brokers or speculators -would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums-you bugles wilder blow.
Beat! beat! drums!-blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley-stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid-mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child's voice be heard, nor the mother's entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums-so loud you bugles blow.
The title for Beat! Beat! Drums! suits this poem quite well. The title gives the reader an image of what the poem will be about, drums beating. This might be a bit misleading in the fact that one may imagine happy drums, (by this I mean a poem that is in a joyful mood.) But this poem, in fact, is a bit depressing. It tells of wars, and raids, and of the people and soldiers. The drums, though, beat preceding the troops, so the title is appropriate if thought of in the correct context.
The speaker of this poem must be an observer of sorts. They have watched and witnessed everything that has tormented the people, everything else that has happened in their lives as a whole. The speaker’s mood is a little oppressive. The way he presents the information of what actually happened during the war makes one think of all the people that died, and what they went through. The speaker sounds like he feels connected to the people somehow, like he should tell what is happening to the public. Perhaps the speaker may have even gone through some of the things he is describing in the poem. The type of words the speaker uses in this poem are very formal and descriptive. He tells things as they are; doesn’t try to make it sound sweet and nice.
The poet uses mostly rhythm in this poem to convey his mood. But there are also alliteration and repetition present when the poet uses “Beat! Beat! drums! -blow! bugles! blow!” The words themselves are what give this poem its voice; the feeling it has. And the voice that this poem does carry suits it very well. It gives the reader a clear and vivid image of what is happening at that time, and what the people are going through. The way this poem moves ahead gives it a feeling of marching along, as the soldiers were. The punctuation is used in just the right spots to convey a mood of panic or sympathy, boldness or of the weak. It is very well written.
The poet personifies the drums and bugles in this poem. It gives the reader a feeling that the drums and bugles are, in part, responsible for all the discord that is going on. The poet says the drums “beat” and the bugles “blow,” this almost makes it seem like the instruments are calling or telling of the war and what is happening. The poet also declares that the drums are fierce and whir and pound, and that the bugles are shrill. This type of personification gives one the feeling that the bugles and drums are wild and dangerous; something to be feared.
This poem is most definitely a narrative poem. It tells of a war, and gives the reader a sense of what is happening during that war. The poem narrates the events that take place during this time; what the people are doing, how they’re reacting, what the people are thinking, etc.
I chose to review this poem because of the beat and rhythm it carried with it. It was just appealing in the tone that it had. The events that are described in this poem may be sad and tragic, but sometimes those things serve to make the best poetry. The poem depicted a clear image and events in my mind, and the flow of the lines also intrigued me. It is a very well done poem.
When I heard the learn'd astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.
The title of this poem, “When I Heard A Learn’d Astronomer,” is an appropriate title and is important to the poem because it gives a clear image of what the poem is going to be about. The reader has an expectation that this poem is going to be about listening to a wise Astronomer, and that is basically what the poem is about. The title, however, is a bit misleading in the fact that the reader expects the speaker in the poem to listen more closely to the Astronomer than he actually does.
The speaker of this poem is someone that is apparently attending a speech or lecture about astronomy. The reader assumes the lecture is being given by a boring Astronomer, since the speaker gets up and leaves. The speaker’s mood is one of boredom and irritation because the Astronomer rattles on and on about all this technical stuff, when all the speaker really wants to do is watch the stars and admire them for their beauty. The speaker uses formal words to describe what is going on and how they feel. A few of the words are flowery, though; when he uses mystical, gliding, and perfect.
The poet uses assonance with the words rising and gliding. He also uses alliteration when he has the words “mystical” and “magical,” and “time” to “time.” The feeling of this poem is of boredom with all the talking and lectures, yet of awe and amazement at the beauty that the stars have when watched in silence. The tone that the words of this poem conveys is appropriate for the topic and the feeling I think the poet was trying to get across to his readers.
The poet personifies the air, calling it mystical, and the figures, when the were ranged in columns. These words, and the rest of the poem, create very clear images. It shows just exactly how bored the speaker was with the whole lecture and that he loved to admire the stars in all their beauty, in silence. That he appreciated them for what they are and enjoyed them without analyzing them to death.
This poem is a narrative poem because it is the speaker telling what happened to him at this particular lecture. It doesn’t rhyme and would be difficult to put into any song or song-like form, so it could not be a lyric poem. The poem narrates the speaker’s feelings toward listening to this Astronomer lecture, and what he prefers to do instead of sit and listen. The poem tells the speaker’s thoughts, feelings, and actions.
I chose to review this poem because of its irony. It’s ironic in the sense that the speaker is listening to this learned astronomer go on and on, talking about the stars, and the heavens, and such. The speaker just goes out and admires the stars in silence, admiring their beauty as much or more than the astronomer did. I appreciated the irony in the poem.
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning:
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won:
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
The title, “O Captain! My Captain!,” is a very appropriate title for this poem. It tells the reader that this poem is about a Captain; most likely the speaker’s Captain. I don’t feel this title is misleading because it states exactly what the poem is about. The only thing the title does not give away is the mood of the poem. One may think it might be a happy poem, but it is not. It is a poem about the death of the speaker’s Captain. But overall, the poem’s title suits it well.
The speaker of the poem sounds like one of the Captain’s men. We might also be led to believe that the speaker may be the son of the Captain, since the speaker refers to him as “father.” But this may just be a figure of speech; using it to mean something along the lines of “father of our country.” The speaker’s mood towards the subject of their Captain’s death is one of grief and sadness. It sounds like they loved their Captain very much and are very much emotionally hurt at him being killed. The type of words the speaker uses in this poem are very descriptive; still on the formal side, but leaning more toward flowery. Although the subject matter in the poem is not flowery at all, the words the speaker uses, shows that he cared deeply about his Captain, thus seeming more loving than the brashness of some other poems.
In this poem the poet uses rhyme as well as rhythm to create a certain feeling in this poem. He uses the repeating line of “O Captain! My Captain!” There is also internal rhyme present which gives the poem more of a sense of rhyme, with rhyming not only at the ends, but also in the middle of the lines. Alliteration is present in the lines “O Captain! My Captain!,” “But O heart! heart! heart!,” “flag is flung,” “dream that on the deck,” and “safe and sound.” There is also assonance in some of the lines such as in “near” and “hear,” and “trip” and “ship.” All these techniques give the poem a feeling of emotion, of grief and sadness, or maybe of a new hope. Rhyme and rhythm generally make for a more moving poem.
The imagery in this poem is quite clear. The poet describes things very well, and thus gives you a vivid picture of what is happening. The poet uses personification when he says “the ship has weather’d every rack,” and when he describes the vessel as being grim and daring, giving the reader a picture of a very tough, strong ship. He also says the bugle trills and it is a “victor ship.” This gives one the impression of rejoicing and celebrating because the battle was won by them. Then the poet personifies the shore and bells, telling them to exult and ring. This makes them sound like they have a life and being of their own. The fact that the poet uses “father” to describe the Captain show that he cared very much about him, and is tremendously sad that the Captain died. This moves the poem in a more depressing direction. The reader feels the joy of winning the war, then the realization that someone very important died for us to win that battle.
This could almost be considered a lyric poem, because of the way it is setup and the rhyme in it. But I would still have to consider this poem a narrative poem because it tells of the end of a war; the end of a war as the soldier sees it. It tells of the tragedy and of the hope that followed the victory. For these things I would consider this a narrative poem.
I chose to review this poem because it moved me. It carries deep emotion with it, telling of life and death and victory. It is a very well written piece of poetry. I read it commemorated Lincoln’s death, so this is a bit of history as well as a poem. The way this poem was written and how it moves and flows just appealed to me. I enjoyed reading it.
Academic American Encyclopedia. Volume #20 W-X-Y-Z. Page 140-141. Copyright 1987, 1986, 1985, 1984, 1983.
Poetry Criticism. Volume #3. Page 365-424. Copyright 1991.
Poetry of Walt Whitman, The. Home Page. March 6, 1999. http://www.liglobal.com/walt/
Here they come,
Marching along,
The drums that precede them,
Beating the song,
The song of war,
The song of plight,
The song that sings of
freedom’s fight.
They fight for justice,
For rights and liberty,
To the death they’ll fight
To the death; to be free.
The bugles trill,
A combative tune,
To tell to all,
What will come all too soon.
The war goes on,
Four years, at least,
Although, for some,
It must never have ceased.
Then finally,
The battle won,
With pride flung wide,
Home they come.
They’re received,
With welcome shouts,
Glory is theirs,
No one’s in doubt,
That victory,
Despite tragedy,
Is a thing to cherish,
For eternity.
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