Ashes of Soldiers

Ashes of Soldiers

by Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

Ashes of soldiers!

As I muse, retrospective, murmuring a chant in thought,

Lo! the war resumes - again to my sense your shapes,

And again the advance of armies.

Noiseless as mists and vapors,

From their graves in the trenches ascending,

From the cemeteries all through Virginia and Tennessee,

From every point of the compass, out of the countless unnamed graves,

In wafted clouds, in myriads large, or in squads of twos or threes, or single ones they come, 

And silently gather around me...

The second poem I choose to highlight is the piece titled Ashes of Soldiers. As the entire piece was too large to fit, only the first two staves are shown in this post. 

Ashes of Soldiers is a different kind of memorial poem, told in a more prose and free-style format than what most would expect. The setting is a graveyard, likely during an afternoon stroll. Upon contemplating the war memorials that are scattered around a particular area of the graveyard, the writer's perception of the wars (though he himself was not involved in them) is so vivid it almost seems the memories of the soldiers who were killed in battle were coming to life in front of him, becoming like spirits, surrounding him and, to an extent, protecting him.

This is very similar in concept to a piece I heard last year, which is partially why I chose this piece, but this has a much deeper meaning, and a much deeper context. Unlike in the piece I have heard prior to reading this, there is a much more vivid description - as vivid, perhaps, as what is going on in the writer's mind at that moment - of what actually occurred there, in contrast to simply stating they were actually there. There is a more vivid picture in the reader's mind of the scenario, and Whitman does a very good job of providing the imagery necessary for the poem to be brought to its full effect.

O Captain!

O Captain! My Captain!

by Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather'd every rack, th 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 nor 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 poem of my choice from the selections given is the first one, titled O Captain! My Captain!. It stands out from the other poems in the excerpt because unlike the other poems given, O Captain had the most of a story to it, and what a story it was.

The general concept of O Captain! was that it is a bittersweet tale of returning home from sea (implied a great battle or quest, though more likely the former) to an eager crowd and much rejoicing, only for the one of the crew narrating the poem to remember that the captain of the ship had perished sometime during the course of the voyage, and therefore the "victory" spoken of before is no longer as welcoming as it would have been with the captain present - and alive. In this poem, there are several more hints as to the setting and the mood than at first glance. Quite a few times in the text, it is implied that the particular crew member who happened to be narrating the piece had a stronger bond with the Captain than what usually would be expected of someone like he. As the captain is often referred to as "father" throughout the piece, we can only assume that is the sort of relationship the two characters had prior to the Captain's death. Another reason why it is assumed that the two characters had a very close relationship is the drastic change in mood that occasionally occurs in the middle of a stave. With the first few lines, it would sound as though the crew member was gleefully announcing the victory and eagerly awaiting the celebrations that were to occur on shore, although nearly halfway through the first stave, when it is revealed to the reader that the Captain is, in fact, dead, the timing of the change of mood is crucial, as if the crewman had just remembered of the Captain's unfortunate demise. This mood change expresses the disappointment of the crewman, having a damper put on the joy of returning home because of what had transpired out at sea. A more specific way this disappointment is expressed is near the bottom of the second stave. As, in the first half of the stave, the rejoicings are almost repeated from the first stave, eagerly informing the Captain of what is to come when the ship is at port, there is yet another cruel remembering of the Captain's fate, and this time, unlike the first, it is accompanied with an explicit denial of the Captain's death, showing all too well the crewman's son-to-father affection toward the Captain.

"It is some dream that on the deck

You've fallen cold and dead."

The third stave, unlike the first two, shows some advancement in the piece's story, having the crewman finally admit to himself of the Captain's passing, and therefore causes the complete mood of the poem to shift from moderately somber to fully somber as the reader is shown the crewman's complete and true emotions, however briefly and subtly. He has finally come to terms with the fact that the Captain is dead, and this thought weighs heavy on his mind as he begins to depart from the ship, walking the very deck that his captain was found dead upon.

EDIT: this poem is about Abraham Lincoln my mind is blown yours may not be but mine is

I don't mean for this stuff to be completely random, it just happens that way.

The title.

Also, I'm probably the only one who thinks it's funny that the title has nothing to do with the context. Or anything, for that matter. At least on my other blog, I post relevant things.

Also, rest assured there WILL be something Starkid-related on here. Eventually. However, opportunity hasn't knocked yet, so I'll just patiently wait instead of making the awkward reference that even Starkids find unfunny.

And now, for something completely unrelated. A man with three buttocks.

The subject for this post is a famous poet of the 19th Century named Walt Whitman, who was known for his poetic poetry (of course) and quite frankly, his writing in general. He was (as mentioned before) a well-renowned poet and wrote many books consisting of his poems, which alone made a large impact on the tiny literary world that was America's at the time. Whitman was truly an innovation in his work, and was admired by other writers similar to he. Raised in the Brooklyn area of New York, Whitman we was heavily influenced by the environments in which had found himself, most notably the Brooklyn ferries that passed through the area from time to time, which in itself became the subject of one of his more famous works. Though Whitman was talented, his career as a writer did not particularly advance until his first job at the Long Island Patriot. After that, writing had been of interest to him, yet he did not fully start his literary career until after he gave up being a schoolteacher, though the long and miserable years had certainly inspired him partially for some of his works. Whitman died on March 26th, 1892 due to poor health, after a lengthy and successful career as a poet and writer of literature.

Whitman's literature was heavily influenced by (although this was more simply his philosophy) Quaker beliefs, as well as the Romantic novelists who preceded him and Shakespeare. The samples of his poetry read in class were most definitely Romantic because he was not only influenced by other Romantic authors, but his writing itself showed signs of Romanticism, specifically some of them referring to the human soul, and the reader himself being put as the center focus of the writer's attention. This is a glaringly obvious sign that the literary work has been somehow influenced by Romantic works, since this trait is most known for in this particular type of literature.  Scratch that, he's a realist.

The next few posts will display a couple of Whitman's works, followed by an analysis of each.