UNIT 6- POETRY
English II World Literature
TYPES OF POEMS
•
The Sonnet
•
The Acrostic
•
The Ode
•
The Riddle Poem
•
The Villanelle
•
The Ekphrasis
•
The Elegy
•
The Narrative Poem
A fixed verse form of Italian origin consisting
of 14 lines that are typically 5-foot iambics
rhyming according to a prescribed scheme

The first and most common sonnet is the Petrarchan, or Italian. Named
after one of its greatest practitioners, the Italian poet Petrarch.

Rhyme Scheme= abba, abba, cdecde or cdcdcd

two stanzas:



the octave (the first eight lines)
the sestet (the final six lines).
The importance of line 9:

Since the Petrarchan presents an argument, observation, question, or some other
answerable charge in the octave, a turn, or volta, occurs between the eighth and ninth
lines. This turn marks a shift in the direction of the foregoing argument or narrative,
turning the sestet into the vehicle for the counterargument, clarification, or whatever
answer the octave demands.
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: - A
England hath need of thee: she is a fen - B
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, - B
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, - A
Have forfeited their ancient English dower - A
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; - B
Oh! raise us up, return to us again; - B
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. - A
Octave - Introduces the theme or problem
1. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart; - C
2. Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: - D
3. Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, - D
4. So didst thou travel on life's common way, - E
5. In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart - C
6. The lowliest duties on herself did lay. - E
Sestet – Addresses or answers the theme or problem
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.

The Shakespearean Sonnet is also popular.

Rhyme Scheme= abab, cdcd, efef, gg.

four stanzas:
 three quatrains (3 stanzas of 4 lines)
 and a couplet (1 stanza of 2 lines)

The importance of the couplet:
 The couplet plays a pivotal role, usually arriving in the
form of a conclusion, amplification, or even refutation
of the previous three stanzas, often creating an
epiphanic quality to the end.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Theold form is used in
new ways
Recognize : 14 lines / or
some by name only
1.Nothing was ever what it claimed to be,
2.the earth, blue egg, in its seeping shell
3.dispensing damage like a hollow hell
4.inchling weeping for a minor sea
5.ticking its tidelets, x and y and z.
6.The blue beneficence we call and spell
7.and call blue heaven, the whiteblue well
8.of constant water, deepening a thee,
9.a thou and who, touching every what—
10.and in the or, a shudder in the cut—
11.and that you are, blue mirror, only stare
12.bluest blankness, whether in the where,
13.sheen that bleeds blue beauty we are taught
14.drowns and booms and vowels. I will not.
Karen Volkman.- “American Sonnet”
In poetry, a poem of praise.

Strand and Boland describe the ode: “It
elevated the person, the object, to occasion”
(240). They continue to relate that the ode is
a dynamic art form which in the beginning in
ceremonial terms, praised heroic deeds and
later, during the Romantic period, in less
ceremonial forms, celebrated life. Though
not a common form today, its influences are
still felt.

A dignified three-part song sung by the
chorus in Greek Drama.

The parts are the strophe, the antistrophe,
and the epode.

In poetry – The ode is a poem that gives
tribute or praise to someone or something.

The first of the three parts of the verse ode
sung by a Greek chorus. While singing the
strophe, the chorus moves in a dancelike
pattern from right to left.

The second of the three parts of the verse
ode sung by the chorus in a Greek drama.
During the antistrophe, the chorus moves
from left to right – back to the original
position.

The third of the three parts of the verse ode
sung by the chorus in a Greek drama.

Throughout time, there have been several variations
on the form resulting in particular ode types: the
Pindaric and the Horation. The Pindaric form has a
three tier structure and often employs metaphor to
amplify emotion. In 1656, Cowley published
Pindarique Odes, and with this publication, ushered in
an even newer version that was freer and more
irregular in form and it was this more irregular type
which became known as Pindarics. William
Wordsworth’s Ode: Intimations of Immortality from
Recollections of Early Childhood, (1802-1804) is an
English example of this form.
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Ode on Melancholy
By John Keats (1795–1821)
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcernedly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixed; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
Ode to Solitude
by Alexander Pope
THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
Ode on a
Grecian Urn
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
5
The Riddle Poem
• A riddle is a type of poetry that describes
something without actually naming what it is,
leaving the reader to guess.
• A riddle is a light hearted type of poetry which
involves the reader.
• Riddles can be about anything, from riddles
about animals to riddles about objects. There are
no rules on how to structure a riddle poem, a
riddle can be funny or it can rhyme, it depends
on the person writing the riddle.
Example of a rhyming riddle
I come in different styles
I can help one walk for miles
I come in a pair
I’m something you wear
With heels I am glam
Can you guess what I am …?
Answer: Shoes
A Riddle
TIME.
This thing all things devours:
Birds, trees, beasts, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays kings, ruins town,
And beats high mountains down.
acrostic poem
• In this form, a word or phrase is coordinated
by the first letter of each line.
acrostic poem - history
According to nineteenth century literary
historian Charles Vaughan Grinfield, the form
originated in ancient times and functioned to
“impress the memory, by means of alphabetic
associations with the truths or facts contained
in the verses” (iv). Acrostics existed in a
number of different languages, from Ancient
Greek to Hebrew, before arriving in the English
language.
January 19,
1809- 1849
A Modern Example
• In more modern times, Edgar Allan Poe
adopted the form for his 1829 poem “An
Acrostic,” where the name Elizabeth is spelled
out by the first letter of each line:
An Acrostic
a poem by Poe
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
“Love not” — thou sayest it in so sweet a way:
In vain those words from thee or L.E.L.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,
Breath it less gently forth — and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his love — was cured of all beside —
His follie — pride — and passion — for he died.
• N ote: In the fourth line, the reader can see how Poe
responds to the demands of the acrostic form by
writing the name Xantippe with a Z (as in Zantippe) to
preserve the integrity of the poem.
Meeting the Demands of the Form
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
“Love not” — thou sayest it in so sweet a way:
In vain those words from thee or L.E.L.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,
Breath it less gently forth — and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his love — was cured of all beside —
His follie — pride — and passion — for he died.
Note:
In the fourth line, the
reader can see how Poe
responds to the
demands of the acrostic
form by writing the
name Xantippe with a Z
(as in Zantippe) to
preserve the integrity of
the poem.
“No Sun Shines Today”
No sun shines today; it is the blazing eye of
Unholy design that scorches the earth at our feet.
Chasing the devil’s tail, were we, when we
Let this monstrosity come to be. Nevertheless, to
Err is to be human, but to impose is to be more human,
And we know that well, for upon that one thought
Rests the fabric of all our decisions and practices.
War is when a gleaming death parcel whistling above
Explains the irony that a grain of life should become
A particle of death; the irony that our white-coat
Patriot saints should become white-faced in horror
On hearing the chorus of shrill cries at ground zero.
Nevertheless, to impose is to be human, but to
Subdue is to be most human, for that is our nature.
And where is the sport of it, when there are no
Remaining souls to subdue, values to impose, or
Errors to make in the dead vacuum of time and space?
The hubris of man is attained, realized in an
Earth-quaking spectacle, a torrent of fiery despair
Rippling across the dirt. A particle perched in the air
Reduced by half announces its explosive preamble
Over valleys and cities, and the carrion are left to
Rot as vermin in the hanging malaria of fallout.
Its high-yield payload broke records today—
So, what? We’re not any more dead, or less.
Memento mori is the lecture, but who will listen?
Work Cited
Grinfield, Charles Vaughan. A
Century of Acrostics.
London: Simpkin, Marshall
& Co., 1855.
A poem with 19 Lines and
6 stanzas and 2 refrains
Stanzas 1-5 =
3 lines each
aba rhyme scheme
Stanza 6 =
4lines
abaa rhyme scheme
2 REFRAINS:
Line 1 of stanza 1 repeats
as the last line of stanzas 2
and 4 and line 3 of stanza 6.
Line 3 of stanza 1 repeats
as the last lines of stanzas 3
and 5 and the last line in
stanza 6
“Unlike most other rhymed
poems . . . the villanelle repeats
one sound thirteen times and
other six. And two entire lines
are repeated four times”
(Strand and Boland 8).
And though many writers use the form to write
about loss, the form itself carries the
meaning of “retrieval” or rebirth.
This is interesting to me because of the earlier
speculation that the poem sparked up along
with an agricultural task of “binding
sheaves” or “scything” (Strand and Boland
6) which is associated with death and at the
same time life.
Writers for Norton suggests that this,
“verse form derived from an earlier
Italian folk song, retains the circular
pattern of a peasant dance”
(Ferguson, Salter and Stallworthy
1269). An important example of this
complicated form is The Waking by
Roethke.
An important example of this
complicated form is The
Waking by Roethke.
Read the Poem and answer these
questions: Villanelle





Title: __________________________
Author: ________________________
# of lines __________________
Number of stanzas _______________
Lines per stanza _____________________


________________________________
Any words stand out? _________________
ReRead the Poem
• Mark the Rhyme Scheme
• Mark the meter
• How many feet per line?
– A poem that responds to a piece of art _
THE EKPHRASIS
• The earliest and best known example of
ekphrasis is the long description of the
shield in Book 18 of the Iliad by Homer.
•
This shield was made by Hephaistos and given to Achilles
by his mother Thetis.
Homer gives a detailed description of the imagery which decorates the
new shield. Starting from the shield's center and moving outward,
circle layer by circle layer, the shield is laid out as follows:
The Earth, sky and sea, the sun, the moon and the constellations
(484–89)
"Two beautiful cities full of people": in one a wedding and a law case
are taking place (490–508); the other city is besieged by one feuding
army and the shield shows an ambush and a battle (509–40).
A field being ploughed for the third time (541–49).
A king's estate where the harvest is being reaped (550–60).
A vineyard with grape pickers (561–72).
A "herd of straight-horned cattle"; the lead bull has been attacked by a
pair of savage lions which the herdsmen and their dogs are trying to
beat off (573–86).
A picture of a sheep farm (587–89).
A dancing-floor where young men and women are dancing (590–606).
The great stream of Ocean (607–609).[2]
THE EKPHRASIS
•
The earliest and best known example of ekphrasis is the long
description of the shield made by Hephaistos and given to Achilles by
his mother Thetis. (The passage is found in Book 18 of the Iliad.) Lowrelief sculpture embossed in metal on the surface of the shield is
described in elaborate detail. Hephaistos's subjects include
constellations, pastures, dancing, and great cities. In fact, visual
notation is so extensive that critics have commented that no actual
shield in the real world would be able to contain the disparate
elements mentioned.
•
So then Homer has imagined a work of art that could not, materially,
exist. The immaterial nature of verbal art allows him to do this. The
effect on the reader of his description is multi-faceted. On one hand, it
tends to move the narrative farther away from ordinary plausibility. On
the other, it provides a dreamlike expansion of the subject at hand
and allows the poet to make oblique comments on the Iliad's main
narrative.
•
Corn in his article Notes on Ekphrasis points to an early example of a
poetic description of art is in Book 18 of Homer’s Iliad. In this passage
the art depicted on a shield is described in great detail.
•
In this passage, Homer embellishes reality.
•
In the twentieth century many poets produced
ekphrastic poems, and the vast majority of these
concern actual, not imaginary works of art.
Consider, for example, Rilke's "Archaic Torso of
Apollo" ; Marianne Moore's "No Swan so Fine" and
"Nine Peaches"; Wallace Stevens's "Angel Between
Two Paysans"; William Carlos Williams's Pictures from
Breughel ; John Berryman's "Hunters in the Snow";
Randall Jarrell's "Knight, Death and the Devil"; W. H.
Auden's "The Shield of Achilles," and Elizabeth
Bishop's "Large Bad Picture" and "Poem." In recent
times there have been a large number of examples,
in fact, several anthologies of ekphrastic poems
have been assembled, sometimes commissioned by
museums whose collections are featured.
•
In the 1900’s, more and more poets began to
describe actual works of art, rather than imagined.
• Some
ekphrastic poems describe
photographs, and these may be
art photographs or else ordinary
snapshots, the latter often
depicting members of the poet's
family.
The Great Wave 神奈川沖浪裏
By Amy Craig Beasley
Okinami – mighty in the open ocean
off Kanagawa—Two fisherman’s boats climb
The mountain, Fuji.
Blue and blue and blue and white
Rowing, reeling, rising roar
Okinami – mighty in the open ocean
Centered solid permanent
Wall of water
The mountain, Fuji.
Ominous
Beautiful
Okinami
Capped in white
And a white spray
The mountain, Fuji.
Rising cloud in pinkish sky
The guard whispers,
“Closing time.”
Okinami – mighty in the open ocean
The mountain, Fuji.
THE EKPHRASIS
A poem that tells a story

A narrative poem takes the form of a story.
Narrative poetry originated in the oral
tradition, and its formal meter and rhyme
structure made it easier to memorize and
deliver orally to a crowd. Thus, it is one of the
oldest forms of poetry. Outside of the
metered verse, a narrative poem shares many
literary attributes with short stories and
novels including narrator, characters, setting,
plot, conflict and resolution.

A narrative poem is told from the point of
view of a narrator. This narrator can be a main
character in the story, a character who has
witnessed the particular events of the story,
or a character who is retelling the story he
has heard from someone else. Because this
form of poetry originated in the oral
tradition, the poet is neither a character in
the story nor the narrator of the story.

A narrative poem contains a formal meter
and rhyme structure. This structure is not
predictable, but instead uses different poetic
tools and literary devices, such as symbolism,
assonance, consonance, alliteration, and
repetition, in different combinations
throughout the poem. Furthermore, a
narrative poem is typically broken into
stanzas that contain a series of cinquains or
rhyming couplets.

A narrative poem always tells a story. A story is made up of
a setting, characters, events, and a conflict, and, like other
forms of narrative, such as novels and short stories,
narrative poems typically begin with descriptions of
characters and setting. Though most narrative poetry is
fictional, it can also be nonfictional and tell the story of a
war or a biography of a real person. A narrative poem can
also be a combination of these two elements such as the
early narrative poem, Homer’s “The Iliad.” This poem is
about the 10-year siege of the city of Troy, during the
Trojan War. The setting of the poem is considered
nonfictional, but story of the quarrel between Achilles and
Agamemnon is considered fictional.

The main purpose of narrative poetry is to entertain, and it uses
imagery, figurative language and different sound patterns to grab
and hold the audience’s attention. Because its main function is to
entertain, a narrative poem does have any expressions of the
poet’s thoughts or feelings. Early examples of narrative poems are
“The Epic of Gilgamesh,” Homer’s “Odyssey” and Virgil’s “Aeneid.”
Homer’s work influenced later narrative poems like “Beowulf,”
Chaucer’s “The Canterbury Tales” and “The Book of the Duchess,”
and Dante’s “Divine Comedy.” Narrative poetry rose in popularity
during the 18th and 19th centuries in Britain. Examples include a
variety of works by Lord Tennyson, Lord Byron, John Keats,
William Wordsworth, Lewis Carroll and Edgar Allan Poe. Though
narrative poetry is one of the oldest poetic traditions, it continues
to be relevant because of its ability to tell entertaining and
informative stories.
The Odyssey is
an example of
an early
narrative poem
A poem in honor of one who has died

As a poetic form, the elegy serves to express
pain and sorrow felt at the loss of something
or someone, and as it is utilized to express
grief it also relates the virtues once held by
the one now deceased.

“The elegy … is not associated with any required
pattern or cadence or repetition” (Strand and
Boland 166).

The elegy is a free form

The elegy captures the ritual of life and death
and is public in nature. It is a funeral song, a
lament for the dead.

“In all societies, death constitutes a cultural
event—with all the superstitions and
household gods of such a event—as well as a
individual loss” (Strand and Boland 168).
Her Final Summer Was It by Emily Dickinson
Her final summer was it, 7
And yet we guessed it not;6
If tenderer industriousness8
Pervaded her, we thought 6
A further force of life 6
Developed from within, -- 7
When Death lit all the shortness up,8
And made the hurry plain.6
We wondered at our blindness, --7
When nothing was to see 6
But her Carrara guide-post, --8
At our stupidity, 6
When, duller than our dulness,7
The busy darling lay,6
So busy was she, finishing,8
So leisurely were we! 6
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 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.
1
2
WHEN lilacs last in the dooryard
bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d
in the western sky in the
night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn
with ever-returning spring.
Ever-returning spring, trinity
sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and
drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.
O powerful western fallen star!
O shades of night—O moody,
tearful night!
O great star disappear’d—O the
black murk that hides the
star!
O cruel hands that hold me
powerless—O helpless soul of
me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that
will not free my soul.
3
4
In the dooryard fronting an old farmhouse near the white-wash’d
palings,
Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with
heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
With many a pointed blossom rising
delicate, with the perfume strong I
love,
With every leaf a miracle—and from
this bush in the dooryard,
15
With delicate-color’d blossoms and
heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
A sprig with its flower I break.
In the swamp in secluded recesses,
A shy and hidden bird is warbling a
song.
25
Solitary the thrush,
20
The hermit withdrawn to himself,
avoiding the settlements,
Sings by himself a song.
Song of the bleeding throat,
Death’s outlet song of life (for well dear
brother I know,
If thou wast not granted to sing thou
would’st surely die).
5
Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities,
Amid lanes and through old woods, where lately the
violets peep’d from the ground, spotting the gray
débris,
Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes,
passing the endless grass,
Passing the yellow-spear’d wheat, every grain from its
shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen,
Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the
orchards,
30
Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave,
Night and day journeys a coffin.
6
Coffin that passes through lanes and streets,
Through day and night with the great cloud darkening
the land,
With the pomp of the inloop’d flags with the cities
draped in black,
35
With the show of the States themselves as of crapeveil’d women standing,
With processions long and winding and the flambeaus
of the night,
With the countless torches lit, with the silent sea of
faces and the unbared heads,
With the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the
sombre faces,
With dirges through the night, with the thousand
voices rising strong and solemn,
40
With all the mournful voices of the dirges pour’d
around the coffin,
The dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs—
where amid these you journey,
With the tolling tolling bells’ perpetual clang,
Here, coffin that slowly passes,
I give you my sprig of lilac.
45
8
O western orb sailing the heaven,
Now I know what you must have meant as a month
since I walk’d,
As I walk’d in silence the transparent shadowy night,
7
(Nor for you, for one alone,
Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I
bring,
For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a
song for you
O sane and sacred death.
All over bouquets of roses,
50
O death, I cover you over with roses and early
lilies,
But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the
first,
Copious I break, I break the sprigs from the
bushes,
With loaded arms I come, pouring for you,
For you and the coffins all of you O death.)
55
As I saw you had something to tell as you bent to me
night after night,
As you droop’d from the sky low down as if to my side
(while the other stars all look’d on),
60
As we wander’d together the solemn night (for
something I know not what kept me from sleep),
As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the
west how full you were of woe,
As I stood on the rising ground in the breeze in the cool
transparent night,
As I watch’d where you pass’d and was lost in the
netherward black of the night,
As my soul in its trouble dissatisfied sank, as where
you sad orb,
65
Concluded, dropt in the night, and was gone.
9
Sing on there in the swamp,
O singer bashful and tender, I hear your notes, I hear
your call,
I hear, I come presently, I understand you,
But a moment I linger, for the lustrous star has detain’d
me,
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The star my departing comrade holds and detains me.
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O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved?
And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone?
And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?
Sea-winds blown from east and west,
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Blown from the Eastern sea and blown from the Western sea, till there on the prairies meeting,
These and with these and the breath of my chant,
I’ll perfume the grave of him I love.
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O what shall I hang on the chamber walls?
And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls,
To adorn the burial-house of him I love?
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Pictures of growing spring and farms and homes,
With the Fourth-month eve at sundown, and the gray smoke lucid and bright,
With floods of the yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, sinking sun, burning, expanding the air,
With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of the trees prolific,
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In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river, with a wind-dapple here and there,
With ranging hills on the banks, with many a line against the sky, and shadows,
And the city at hand with dwellings so dense, and stacks of chimneys,
And all the scenes of life and the workshops, and the workmen homeward returning.
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Lo, body and soul—this land,
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My own Manhattan with spires, and the sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships,
The varied and ample land, the South and the North in the light, Ohio’s shores and flashing
Missouri,
And ever the far-spreading prairies cover’d with grass and corn.
Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty,
The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes,
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The gentle soft-born measureless light,
The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill’d noon,
The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars,
Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.
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Sing on, sing on you gray-brown bird,
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Sing from the swamps, the recesses, pour your chant from the bushes,
Limitless out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines.
Sing on dearest brother, warble your reedy song,
Loud human song, with voice of uttermost woe.
O liquid and free and tender!
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O wild and loose to my soul—O wondrous singer!
You only I hear—yet the star holds me (but will soon depart),
Yet the lilac with mastering odor holds me.
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Now while I sat in the day and look’d forth,
In the close of the day with its light and the fields of spring, and the farmers preparing their crops,
In the large unconscious scenery of my land with its lakes and forests,
In the heavenly aerial beauty (after the perturb’d winds and the storms),
Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, and the voices of children and women,
The many-moving sea-tides, and I saw the ships how they sail’d,
And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy with labor,
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And the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, each with its meals and minutia of daily usages,
And the streets how their throbbings throbb’d, and the cities pent—lo, then and there,
Falling upon them all and among them all, enveloping me with the rest,
Appear’d the cloud, appear’d the long black trail,
And I knew death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death.
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Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me,
And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me,
And I in the middle as with companions, and as holding the hands of companions,
I fled forth to the hiding receiving night that talks not,
Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness,
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To the solemn shadowy cedars and ghostly pines so still.
And the singer so shy to the rest receiv’d me,
The gray-brown bird I know receiv’d us comrades three,
And he sang the carol of death, and a verse for him I love.
From deep secluded recesses,
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From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still,
Came the carol of the bird.
And the charm of the carol rapt me,
As I held as if by their hands my comrades in the night,
And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.
Come lovely and soothing death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later delicate death.
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Prais’d be the fathomless universe,
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For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,
And for love, sweet love—but praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.
Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet,
Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
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Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all,
I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Approach strong deliveress,
When it is so, when thou hast taken them I joyously sing the dead,
Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee,
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Laved in the flood of thy bliss O death.
From me to thee glad serenades,
Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee,
And the sights of the open landscape and the high-spread sky are fitting,
And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.
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The night in silence under many a star,
The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,
And the soul turning to thee O vast and well-veil’d death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.
Over the tree-tops I float thee a song,
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Over the rising and sinking waves, over the myriad fields and the prairies wide,
Over the dense-pack’d cities all and the teeming wharves and ways,
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee O death.
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To the tally of my soul,
Loud and strong kept up the gray-brown bird,
With pure deliberate notes spreading filling the night.
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Loud in the pines and cedars dim,
Clear in the freshness moist and the swamp perfume,
And I with my comrades there in the night.
While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed,
As to long panoramas of visions.
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And I saw askant the armies,
I saw as in noiseless dreams hundreds of battle-flags,
Borne through the smoke of the battles and pierc’d with missiles I saw them,
And carried hither and you through the smoke, and torn and bloody,
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And at last but a few shreds left on the staffs (and all in silence),
And the staffs all splinter’d and broken.
I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them,
And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them,
I saw the débris and débris of all the slain soldiers of the war,
But I saw they were not as was thought,
They themselves were fully at rest, they suffer’d not,
The living remain’d and suffer’d, the mother suffer’d,
And the wife and the child and the musing comrade suffer’d,
And the armies that remain’d suffer’d.
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Passing the visions, passing the night,
Passing, unloosing the hold of my comrades’ hands,
Passing the song of the hermit bird and the tallying song of my soul,
Victorious song, death’s outlet song, yet varying ever-altering song,
As low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night,
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Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting with joy,
Covering the earth and filling the spread of the heaven,
As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses,
Passing, I leave thee lilac with heart-shaped leaves,
I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring.
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I cease from my song for thee,
From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee,
O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night.
Yet each to keep and all, retrievements out of the night,
The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird,
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And the tallying chant, the echo arous’d in my soul,
With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance full of woe,
With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of the bird,
Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep, for the dead I loved so well,
For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands—and this for his dear sake,
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.
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