into...Walt Whitman.

The following are two of my favorite poems by Walt Whitman, an American 19th century poet. To You is a poem of considerable length and one of Whitman’s most notable works. This poem embodies the romantic style he often utilized. A love poem of sorts, Whitman brilliantly constructs consecutive stanzas of passion and adore for his significant other. Through this candid confession, Whitman dotingly describes the extent of his love. He is not remiss in detailing every way in which he adores his beloved; every way in which she or he is perfect in his eyes. With On The Beach At Night, Whitman created a serene, elegant, and calming poem using powerful imagery. This poem extends far beyond the captivating descriptions of the night sky; it possesses a philosophical undertone. As the father and daughter gaze up at the night sky and watch the stars disappear behind the foreboding clouds, the father whispers words of faith and confidence to his weeping daughter. The very premise of this poem embodies the security and love found within relationships between parent and child.

 

(Excerpt from TO YOU):

WHOEVER you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands;
Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you,
Your true Soul and Body appear before me,
They stand forth out of affairs—out of commerce, shops, law, science, work, forms, clothes, the house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying.
Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem;
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.
O I have been dilatory and dumb;
I should have made my way straight to you long ago;
I should have blabb’d nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you. ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ON the beach at night, Stands a child with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky. Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading, Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky, Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east, Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter, And nigh at hand, only a very little above, Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades. From the beach the child holding the hand of her father, Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all, Watching, silently weeps. Weep not, child, Weep not, my darling, With these kisses let me remove your tears, The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious, They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition, Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge, They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again, The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure, The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine. Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter? Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars? Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper, I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,) Something there is more immortal even than the stars, (Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,) Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter Longer than sun or any revolving satellite, Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.