logo

45 pages 1 hour read

Walt Whitman

Song of Myself

Fiction | Poem | Adult | Published in 1856

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Themes

You and I: The Democratic Self

In the first line of the poem, Walt Whitman boldly declares its subject: himself. Indeed, “Song of Myself” is, on one level, an unabashed celebration of Whitman the individual. The poet draws on real details of his life and personal experiences. He mentions his roots in Manhattan (Section 24); he alludes to the ambiguity of his sexual desires throughout the text. He even plucks a war story from his family history in Section 35. Readers have taken his point to heart. Throughout its reception history, “Song of Myself” has been closely identified, for better or for worse, with Walt Whitman himself.

But Whitman’s concept of self is more nuanced than it seems at first glance. It is true that the poem is about Whitman, but as the poet explains in the earliest lines, “Every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you” (Section 1). When Whitman writes of himself, he writes of you, of me, of all of humanity. Whitman’s vision of self is informed by radical, democratic empathy.

Throughout “Song of Myself,” Whitman clarifies and revisits this idea. “In all people I see myself,” he writes in Section 20, “None more and not one a barley-corn less.” He is “no stander above men and women or apart from them” (Section 24), he is a member of a body politic made reality. And as Whitman radically accepts and loves every part of his physical body, so he accepts and loves every member of American society. His fellow man is not just his brother; he is an aspect of Whitman’s self.

Whitman did not shy away from making the point political. The implications of Section 13, in which Whitman paints a vignette of a Black cart driver, are particularly striking. The poet describes the man’s loose and open shirt, his glance “calm and commanding,” how he “tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead.” The pose and attitude are familiar: Whitman may be describing this famous image of himself, one which was printed in the first edition of Leaves of Grass. In 1855, before the Civil War even began, Whitman overtly mirrored himself with an African American man. In Section 10, a white frontiersman marries a Native American woman, and a white person shelters a runaway slave into his home. In Whitman’s view, a true democracy should invite all to the feast (Section 19), though materialistic capitalism may try to deny admittance (Section 42). In the last line of Section 50, Whitman makes clear his interpretation of Thomas Jefferson’s famous line in the Declaration of Independence: In America, every person should be entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Removing Societal Barriers: Embracing Body and Soul

As a poet obsessed with empathy and joining in earnest communication with others, Whitman despises the forces in the world which keep people apart. He takes a Transcendentalist stance on the subject. Barriers between people, he believes, are often generated by the arbitrary restrictions of society. He establishes early on that he does not like fussy scholarly types, the “talkers” and “trippers and askers” of Sections 2 and 3. Too much theorizing and rationalizing clouds the rooms of the mind with overwrought “perfumes.” While Whitman once enjoyed these sorts of debates and treatises, he is wary of their ability to “intoxicate” him now (Section 2). Much better, in his view, to be outdoors in the wild, removed from the sometimes pleasant (but often restrictive) influence of society.

“Song of Myself” encourages its reader to remove any societal barriers to freedom, unity, and happiness. He sometimes personifies these barriers as articles of clothing; fashion trends are an obvious metaphor for the transitory nature of social norms. In a time in which dress was still highly modest and restrictive for all genders, Whitman commands his reader to “Undrape! You are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, / I see through the broadcloth and gingham” (Section 7). Whitman’s shocking emphasis on unashamed sex and comfort with nudity transports humanity back in time to the purity of Eden. Before Eve consumed the apple of knowledge—an apple Whitman would surely distrust—no-one knew to be ashamed of their natural selves. Being naked together, enjoying sexual intercourse: this is the secret of human connection and happiness. “Welcome is every organ and attribute of me,” Whitman writes, “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” (Section 3).

Whitman adores nature, particularly the animal kingdom, for this reason. As he details at length in Section 32, animals lack humanity’s destructive sense of self-consciousness: “They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, / They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God.” Though animals do not have the advanced scientific and philosophical knowledge enjoyed by humans, they somehow still get by. “The jay in the woods,” Whitman points out, “Never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me” (Section 13). And when the poet looks into a cow’s eyes, they seem to him to express “more than all the print I have ever read in my life” (Section 13).

blurred text
blurred text
blurred text
blurred text