A comparison of song of myself by walt whitman and the open boat by stephen crane

What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever. The first of these is found in the sixth section of the poem.

The second episode is more optimistic. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

She fantasizes about joining them unseen, and describes their semi-nude bodies in some detail. I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

Everyone must die eventually, and so the natural roots of democracy are therefore in mortality, whether due to natural causes or to the bloodshed of internecine warfare. She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.

II Houses and rooms are full of perfumes It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. Whitman uses small, precisely drawn scenes to do his work here.

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, there are millions of suns left, You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. This paradoxical set of conditions describes perfectly the poetic stance Whitman tries to assume.

The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.

Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself. Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them. I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you; The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries, On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms, The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold, The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle, As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the jingling of loose change, The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, the masons are calling for mortar, In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you. Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

I do not know what it is any more than he.

Song of Myself and Other Poems

Again this is not so much the expression of a sexual preference as it is the longing for communion with every living being and a connection that makes use of both the body and the soul although Whitman is certainly using the homoerotic sincerely, and in other ways too, particularly for shock value.

The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.

Song of Myself Questions and Answers

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest. The atmosphere is not a perfumeWalt Whitman's "Song of Myself" is an interesting work because it was completed over such a long period of time and revised based on Whitman's changes in life, experience, and thinking, though the.

A Comparison of Song of Myself by Walt Whitman and The Open Boat by Stephen Crane PAGES 3. WORDS View Full Essay. More essays like this: Not sure what I'd do without @Kibin - Alfredo Alvarez, student @ Miami University.

Exactly what I needed. - Jenna Kraig, student @ UCLA. Wow. Most helpful essay resource ever! Learn term:realism naturalism = twain, whitman, dickinson with free interactive flashcards. Choose from 56 different sets of term:realism naturalism = twain, whitman, dickinson flashcards on Quizlet.

Nov 16,  · "Song of Myself" is a poem by Walt Whitman that is included in his work Leaves of Grass. It has been credited as "representing the.

Song of Myself, I, II, VI & LII

Buy a cheap copy of Song of Myself book by Walt Whitman. It was with this first version of Song of Myself, from the edition of Leaves of Grass, that Whitman first made himself known to the world. Readers familiar Free shipping over $/5. Absorbing all to myself and for this song. The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are ready, The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches, Song of Myself ( version) By Walt Whitman About this Poet Walt Whitman is America’s world poet—a latter-day successor to Homer, Virgil, Dante, and .

Download
A comparison of song of myself by walt whitman and the open boat by stephen crane
Rated 3/5 based on 91 review