Relating to CC202’s study of Walt Whitman’s work, here is an extract of the article by Claire Kelley on the poet’s whereabouts while he was writing in 1855:
“Whitman-iacs” like NYU Professor Karen Karbiener have paid their respects to the ghost of Walt Whitman by visiting the unassuming white house that stands one story taller than the others next to it… As Berman says, “Anybody who has spent a little time over “Leaves of Grass” ought to be able to understand why one or another long-lost building associated with Whitman might incite a bit of feeling.”
For the full article, visit http://bit.ly/WMrlVr
Here is a sample from the poem Song of Myself, from Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass:
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.