An episode from 4/14/22: “Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?” Walt Whitman asks. “I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.” Long after so many aspects of his poems have ceased to shock us, Whitman’s attitude towards death remains perhaps the most challenging in all of his poetry. Tonight, I read from my favorite of those poems: the youthful bits from “Song of Myself,” his meditations over the Civil War, and the poems that came from old age. They can all be found in The Selected Short Poems of Walt Whitman, and The Selected Long Poems of Walt Whitman.
Selections from “Song of Myself”
The Compost
I Sit and Look Out
Scented Herbage of My Breast
Of Him I Love Day and Night
As the Time Draws Nigh
So Long!
Not Youth Pertains to Me
Old War-Dreams
As at Thy Portals Also Death
A Carol Closing Sixty-Nine
As I Sit Writing Here
Supplement Hours
The Sleepers
As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life
Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’dDon’t forget to support Human Voices Wake Us on Substack, where you can also get our newsletter and other extras. You can also support the podcast by ordering any of my books: Notes from the Grid, To the House of the Sun, The Lonely Young & the Lonely Old, and Bone Antler Stone.
Any comments, or suggestions for readings I should make in later episodes, can be emailed to [email protected].