Walt Whitman (31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892 / New York / United States)

the grass only obeys the wind as does all life

I was wondering after the grass is plucked why then does it's color remain and it's form not instantly stiff'n. it can even still can be woven.

After a long reading, one thing is clear from this specific poem, the child is Whitman himself and deliberately wants to communicate a truth.......

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait
at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

Here the asker and the answerer....both the poet plays within a single conscious. Nice.

I suppose when you sit and ponder something it is about opening your mine to more then one possibility in life and questions does any one person have all the information to answer any question is anything more then a metaphor or just some ones opinion, Is there fact or fiction I guess it could be both.

I love how it uses grass to explain the circle of life. He explains that those who die (their beards, their hair, the young or the old) nurture and feed the grass to grow and hence life continues around and around never ending and never waisting anything symbolising no ending only a new beginning. All that is lost can be re sewn, giving life to the grass and forming why and what it stands for an might be. Beautiful

Hey man, I can tell grass is man.

Whitman can go on writing like that forever. The 'wordiest' poet ever, except for maybe Ginsberg.

I am no expert, and I just finnished reading Walt Whitmans leaves of grass and I must say that I did not find it at all enlightening. I do not know what all of the raves are about, but to me he just seems to ramble on and on, jumping from one subject to the other.That is just my humble opinion, and like I said I am no expert.

Nope. It don't do it for me. Grass is grass. All flesh is grass. A fancy border round a plain picture which could stand by itself. A too-elaborate and unnecessary rif on a good old song. Don't deceive a child, the Bible says, don't say you cannot when you can. A poet preening himself with his poetical verbosity. There is something false and inbred about this poem.

The child may have asked a simple question to know the truth; but it requires a philosophical analysis to answer for the child to know the truth! It has provoked Whitman to give a long answer by this explorative poetry very nice!