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

One of Whitman's beautiful shorter poems. The master at work!

you have a talent for expressing much in your feeling in just a few short sentences

Whitman's expressing sexual frustration in a beautiful poem.

Anastasia Walt Whitman is dead. He has been for over hundred years, I personally did not like Walt Whitmans writings except for a few. Like Captain my Captain, and When Lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed. His poetry to me was too conceited and at the time we studied it in the 60s he just did not measure up to the greats.

im not experianced but this poem u wrote is amazing! it is simple but yet expresses some much emotion. Good work!

Only if America was caught up in the beauty of his graphic portrayal of human affection instead of blindly addicted to sending boys (and now girls) to die in war. Men giving young men their hands in compassion instead of rifles and uniforms and human targets. Too bad his dream isn't the American Dream, too bad.

Interesting comments to come so late upon. Whitman wrote Leaves of Grass, that gave so many readings of illumination, so who cares if he was gay? And if he was? What courage to write it down at the time, originating as Walt did from a Quaker background. With Walt having four handicapped siblings and my own childhood memories of coal mining and logging pubs, I can see other readings from an era extinct, now even in the isolated region of my birth. Is not a strength of this poem, the rural description and invitation to each reader to perceive what they may?

Whitman includes both himself the poet and himself as the young man by the brilliant line “A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught…” – he is looking secretly on at himself.

In this way Whitman shows he is anxious for the young man, who is remarkably untouched by the turbulent macho atmosphere of the bar room, perhaps because he knows which way these situations can turn.

At the same time he marvels at himself making such a frank and courageous avowal of love in such an unlikely circumstances.

It is interesting that it is when the youth comes in that Whitman “turns up” the noise of the bar-room.

A common sight in a bar on a winter day near the stove to pass the time with known figures is well known for all! It reminds me of coffee house intellectual talkers too! But it is common of day-today chatting place more now than in his times! A casually written poem without any seriousness appeals to ordinary readers very well!

I agree with Joe Powhit regarding this no tv and video.
Dear readers, kindly read my poem 'My village, winter and hope'
on the same topic, you'll like it too. THANKS