SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY
What is the meaning of "sort me"? Why jumble all these signs of summer
together? Does one naturally think in an orderly way when recalling the
details of spring or summer? Can you think of any important points that
the author has left out? Is _samples_ a poetic word? What is meant by
the line "not for themselves alone," etc.? Note the sound-words in the
poem: What is their value here? Read the lines slowly to yourself, or
have some one read them aloud, and see how many of them suggest little
pictures. Note the punctuation: Do you approve? Is this your idea of
poetry? What is poetry? Would this be better if it were in the full form
of verse? Can you see why the critics have disagreed over Whitman's
poetry?
WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER
WALT WHITMAN
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.
SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY
Why did the listener become tired of the lecturer who spoke with much
applause? What did he learn from the stars when he was alone out of
doors? Does he not think the study of astronomy worth while? What would
be his feeling toward other scientific studies? What do you get out of
this poem? What do you think of the way in which it is written?
VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT
WALT WHITMAN
Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;
When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,
One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look
I shall never forget,
One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay
on the ground,
Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,
Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made
my way,
Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body,
son of responding kisses (never again on earth responding),
Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene,
cool blew the moderate night-wind,
Long there and then in vigil I stood,
dimly around me the battle-field spreading,
Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night,
But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed,
Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side
leaning my chin in my hands,
Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest
comrade--not a tear, not a word,
Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,
As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole,
Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was
your death,
I faithfully loved you and cared for you living,
I think we shall surely meet again,)
Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the
dawn appear'd,
My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form,
Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and
carefully under feet,
And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave,
in his rude-dug grave I deposited,
Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim,
Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding),
Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget,
how as day brighten'd,
I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket,
And buried him where he fell.
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