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.
