Summary and Form
This poem was one of the twenty new poems in the 1856
edition of Leaves of Grass. Like "Crossing
Brooklyn Ferry,"
which appeared at the same time, it celebrates a
communion and a democracy based on place. Here
Whitman sets up the out-of-doors as a utopian,
democratic space, in which all men can come together.
This poem shows more structure than many of Whitman's
works. From the cry of "Allons!" (Let's go!) that
opens many of the stanzas, to the lists and repeated
phrases (the "efflux of the soul," the "fluid and
repeating character") this poem truly does have the
character of a song: musical and rhythmic, while at
the same time completely unconventional.
Commentary
In this poem Whitman celebrates the out-of-doors, and
the road in particular, as a space where men can come
together in a meaningful way, where status and social
markers matter less. A road is something everyone
uses, whether they are rich or poor, and it forces
all levels of people to associate with one another.
The road, furthermore, signifies mobility: one can
take the road to somewhere new, and in America that
means somewhere one can start over. For Whitman,
too, the road is a space for gathering the material
for poetry. As he travels along it, he sees a
variety of people and places, and hears a plethora of
stories. He argues against staying in one place for
too long, although the hospitality may be a lure, for
only the tests of the open road will do.
By contrast, indoor spaces are fixed and so
stultifying as to be almost toxic. "You must not
stay sleeping and dallying there in the house," he
commands. Indoors is a place of "secret silent
loathing and despair," where death always lurks and
people's bones are almost visible as signs of their
mortality and innate debasement. True companionship
is not possible in this indoor world, for people,
bound by "customs," live too close together and
knowledge of one another is a liability rather than a
linkage of love.
This is a call to arms, an exhortation to those who
are strong enough to join Whitman on the road. While
for him the journey is the source of poetry, he sees
it as something larger, as a way of life. The poetry
is secondary. As he says, "I and mine do not
convince by arguments, similes, rhymes, / We convince
by our presence." What is at stake is therefore more
fundamental and more universal than literature. The
road is a symbol of a democratic and vital society
that just happens to make for good poetry.
