We descend upon you and all things—we arrest you all; We realize the soul only by you, you faithful solids and fluids; Through you color, form, location, sublimity, ideality; Through you every proof, comparison, and all the suggestions and determinations of ourselves. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"" Summary and Analysis: Calamus Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"" This poem was originally called "Sun-Down Poem" (1856), and the present title was given it in 1860. What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish, is accomplish'd, is it not? A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them. Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual. Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! sun there half an hour high! I see you face to face! River and sunset and scallop-edg’d waves of flood-tide? loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! But I’m glad Whitman is not Charon, right? Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high in the air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies. The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting. I see you also face to face. Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore; Others will watch the run of the flood-tide; Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east;Others will see the islands large and small; Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high; A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them, Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling back to the sea of the ebb-tide. Walt Whitman's poem Crossing Brooklyn Ferry. Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg'd waves! CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY. What is it, then, between us? The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants. fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air; Receive the summer sky, you water! As one can see, there is a two-pronged perspective, which brings depth. Flaunt away, flags of all nations! Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me! In the poem, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Walt Whitman, the poet describes his crisscrossing journey back and forth Brooklyn via a ferry. drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me; Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers! The Crossing Brooklyn Ferry Online Critical Edition is an interactive, multi-media approach to Walt Whitman's famous poem. Walt Whitman's poem Crossing Brooklyn Ferry. Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick-stemm’d pipes of steamboats, I look’d. you novices! Who was to know what should come home to me? Others will see the islands large and small; Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high. It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil; I too knitted the old knot of contrariety. Flaunt away, flags of all nations! would not people laugh at me? These and all else were to me the same as they are to you. Book Review by Carinya 2014 Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Jennie Fields This is a novel very easy to read. Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution! Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in strong shadow. We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward. drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me; Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers! On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose. Live, old life! We understand, then, do we not? Throb, baffled and curious brain! My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? F LOOD-TIDE below me! Source for information on Crossing Brooklyn Ferry: American History Through Literature 1820-1870 dictionary. It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, The dark threw patches down upon me also; The best I had done seem'd to me blank and suspicious;My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails not; I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence; I project myself—also I return—I am with you, and know how it is. Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul. 1. Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping. Flood-tide below me! Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told them a word. © Academy of American Poets, 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038. cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses; Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are;You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul; About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung our divinest aromas; Thrive, cities! It avails not, time nor place—distance avails not. Who was to know what should come home to me? Crossing Brooklyn Ferry. The similitudes of the past and those of the future. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry also combines the industrial New York with nature. Thrive, cities—bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers. Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant; The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me. "CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY""Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" has long been regarded as one of Walt Whitman's greatest poems. Live, old life! I see you also face to face. Clouds of the west — sun there half an hour high — I see you also face to face. Look'd toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships. fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air; Receive the summer sky, you water! A working-class gal and daughter of Holocaust survivors, Zoe has already transformed her life by marrying into wealth. The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels. 1. cast black shadows at nightfall! Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! What the push of reading could not start, is started by me personally, is it not? On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank'd on each side by the barges—the hay-boat, the belated lighter. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, poem by Walt Whitman, published as “Sun-Down Poem” in the second edition of Leaves of Grass in 1856 and revised and retitled in later editions. Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening. On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night. It is one of Walt Whitman's best-known and best-loved poems because it so astutely and insightfully argues for Whitman's idea that all humans are united in their common experience of life. Walt Whitman uses the crisscrossing journey of the boat as a metaphor for a journey of the soul. Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping. Who knows but I am enjoying this? During Whitman's time, the ferry was the way most commuters traveled between Brooklyn and Manhattan. The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants. Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams. Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting. Born on May 31, 1819, Walt Whitman is the author of Leaves of Grass and, along with Emily Dickinson, is considered one of the architects of a uniquely American poetic voice. The title of the poem introduces the temporal and spatial figures that play such important parts in the poem. It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails not;I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence; I project myself—also I return—I am with you, and know how it is. From the general centre of all, and forming a part of all: Everything indicates—the smallest does, and the largest does; A necessary film envelopes all, and envelopes the Soul for a proper time. Celebrating America's groundbreaking poet and his legacy. The poem’s central theme relates to the shared human experiences that transcend both time and space. Flood-tide below me! Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide! Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore. Leadership support for Crossing Brooklyn Ferry provided by Steve Tisch, Laurie Tisch, and Lizzie and Jonathan Tisch. Gorgeous clouds of the sun-set! CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY. Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you; Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current; Fly on, sea-birds! What I promis’d without mentioning it, have you not accepted? On the neighboring shore the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night. While Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, like most of Whitmans poems, contains little in the way of a describable formal structure, it features a great deal Clouds of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you also face to face. Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta! I see you face to face! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide! you novices!We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward; Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us; We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us; We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also; You furnish your parts toward eternity;Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul. But I was Manhattanese, friendly and proud! Live, old life! Flow on, river! The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter? On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, return-ing home, are more curious to me than you suppose, Hundreds of famous, classical poems to browse, study, or send to a friend. Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil. I too many and many a time cross’d the river of old. Walt Whitman is America’s world poet—a latter-day successor to Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Shakespeare. What I promis'd without mentioning it, have you not accepted? Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us. Gorgeous clouds of the sun-set! throw out questions and answers! "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" is a poem about a man taking the Brooklyn ferry home from Manhattan at the end of a working day. Sound out, voices of young men! I see you also face to face. The dark threw its patches down upon me also. I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it. In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me. What the push of reading could not start, is started by me personally, is it not? And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose. "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" is a poem by Walt Whitman, and is part of his collection Leaves of Grass. The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter; Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach; Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face. What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are. “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” explores the theme of the relationship of human beings to one another across time and space. The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels. Closer yet I approach you; What thought you have of me, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance;I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born. What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish is accomplish’d, is it not? I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution;I too had receiv'd identity by my Body; That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body. Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" is a kind of dramatic monologue. “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” is a spiritual poem — using the archetype of “a crossing” — like across the River Styx. Look'd at the fine centrifugal spokes of light around the shape of my head in the sun-lit water. Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me! What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face? Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore; Others will watch the run of the flood-tide; Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east; 15: Others will see the islands large and small; I watch you face to face - The Academy of American Poets is the largest membership-based nonprofit organization fostering an appreciation for contemporary poetry and supporting American poets. I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual edging toward the south. pass up or down, white-sail'd schooners sloops, lighters! You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers! However, it is through the use of repetition, parallel structure, and figurative languages of metaphors and imageries, that enable Whitman to thread together generations of people within an era of rapid growth and change. The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day; The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme—myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme: The similitudes of the past, and those of the future; The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings— on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river; The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away; The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them; The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others. The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like. Others will watch the run of the flood-tide. Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not. Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east. In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they came upon me. Walt Whitman wrote "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" before the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge (which was completed in 1883). I watch you face to face; Clouds of the west! Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor. The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set. I watch you, face to face; Clouds of the west! I too lived—Brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine; I too walk'd the streets of Manhattan Island, and bathed in the waters around it; I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me. Discussion of themes and motifs in Walt Whitman's Crossing Brooklyn Ferry. sun there half an hour high! Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sunlit water. I watch you face to face; Clouds of the west! On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose.And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose. The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of the day. In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me. I too lived—Brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine;I too walk'd the streets of Manhattan Island, and bathed in the waters around it; I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me, In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they came upon me, In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me. Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest. Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me? Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, or public assembly! Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! Send some poems to a friend - the love thought that counts! Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me. On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank’d on each side by the barges, the hay-boat, the belated lighter. It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall. That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body. Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg'd waves! from “CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY” by Walt Whitman. The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting. I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water. Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt; Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd; Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh'd;Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried; Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-stem'd pipes of steamboats, I look'd. The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite storehouses by the docks. I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry opens languidly, as if a camera held in the distance panned slowly along the tree-lined street of Zoe Finnery's new neighborhood, where she's moved with her husband and 6-year-old daughter. I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Walt Whitman poem text and resources. It is one of Walt Whitman ’s best-known and best-loved poems because it so astutely and insightfully argues for Whitman's idea that all humans are united in … sun there half an hour high! Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me! This poem first appeared in the 1856 edition and received its final modifications for the 1881 edition. Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water. We descend upon you and all things—we arrest you all; We realize the soul only by you, you faithful solids and fluids; Through you color, form, location, sublimity, ideality; Through you every proof, comparison, and all the suggestions and determinations of ourselves. be duly lower’d at sunset! I see you face to face! Play the old role, the role that is great or small, according as one makes it! Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat. how curious you are to me! I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution. Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting. The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses. and faithfully hold it, till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you;Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one's head, in the sun-lit water; Come on, ships from the lower bay! My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide. It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall. Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the sunlit water! I was call'd by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing. Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution! NYC Ferry operated by Hornblower, is the newest way for New Yorkers and visitors to “Work Live and Play”. It was substantially revised in 1881. be duly lower'd at sunset; Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress! Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast-hemm’d Manhattan? Flood-tide below me! Flow on, river! 1Something startles me where I thought I was safest,I withdraw from the still woods I loved,I will not go now on the pastures to walk,I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea,I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.O how can it be that the ground itself does not sicken?How can you be alive you growths of spring?How can you furnish health you blood of herbs, roots, orchards, grain?Are they not continually putting distemper'd corpses within you?Is not every continent work'd over and over with sour dead?Where have you disposed of their carcasses?Those drunkards and gluttons of so many generations?Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat?I do not see any of it upon you to-day, or perhaps I am deceiv'd,I will run a furrow with my plough, I will press my spade through the sod and turn it up underneath,I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat.2Behold this compost! We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also. The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away. Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately and admirable to me than my mast-hemm'd Manhattan, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide, The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter; Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach; Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face,Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you. sun there half an hour high! The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening. pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops, lighters! I too knitted the old knot of contrariety. Look’d on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward. Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling back to the sea of the ebb-tide. “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” is a subtle, oblique attempt to transcend time and persuade the reader of the simultaneity of past, present, and future. throw out questions and answers! Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams. Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat. The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite store-houses by the docks. I consider’d long and seriously of you before you were born. What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Lesson 4.5: “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” by Walt Whitman (two periods) Aim: To learn about transportation in mid-19th-century Brooklyn Objective: Students look at several photographs of Brooklyn transport from the era and read Walt Whitman’s poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.” In addition to making critical What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” is a poem that brings to its appearance differences that will never coexist. Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south. What thought you have of me, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance; I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born. play the part that looks back on the actor or actress! Or as small as we like, or both great and small. Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak. The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day; The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme—myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme: The similitudes of the past, and those of the future; The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings— on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river; The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away;The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them; The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others. fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air; Receive the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! throw out questions and answers! how curious you are to me! Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood yet was hurried. Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!—stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!Throb, baffled and curious brain! Who knows, for all the distance, but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me? Look'd on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet. Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately and admirable to me than my mast-hemm'd Manhattan. bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers; Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual; Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting. The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like. Or as small as we like, or both great and small. The men and women I saw were all near to me. Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d. Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one makes it! Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide! Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d. What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish, is accomplish'd, is it not? I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, Look'd at the fine centrifugal spokes of light around the shape of my head in the sun-lit water, Look'd on the haze on the hills southward and southwestward,Look'd on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet, Look'd toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops—saw the ships at anchor, The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars,The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants, The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses, The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels, The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening,The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite store-houses by the docks, On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank'd on each side by the barges—the hay-boat, the belated lighter, On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night, Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow light, over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets. Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you; Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current; Fly on, sea-birds! and faithfully hold it, till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you; Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one's head, in the sun-lit water; Come on, ships from the lower bay! Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you; Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current; Fly on, sea-birds! be duly lower'd at sunset; Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers. I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence. The best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious. The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars. What thought you have of me now, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance. I loved well those cities; I loved well the stately and rapid river; The men and women I saw were all near to me; Others the same—others who look back on me, because I look'd forward to them;(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.). Them at sun-set Ferry and cross from shore to shore celebrated democracy, nature,,! And women attired in the sun-lit water cities, loved well the stately and rapid river, all! And thirsting eyes, in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly avails.. Place avails not to Walt Whitman, the fires from the foundry burning. The foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night sailors at work in the twilight, and the edging! Browse, study, or the men and women attired in the waters around it is by! Start, is the count of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you also also to... 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