Home, or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all time, minding no time, If we two but keep together. This harmonious union is broken when "May-be killed, unknown to her mate," the she-bird disappears one day, never to return. This story of love and loss has usually been treated as a dramatization of a personal experience.
Pour down your warmth, great sun! While we bask, we two together.
Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or niqht come black, Home, or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all time, minding no time, While we two keep together.
And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea, And at night under the full of the moon in calmer weather, Over the hoarse surging of the sea, Or flitting from brier to brier by day, I saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird, The solitary guest from Alabama.
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind, And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close, But my love soothes not me, not me. Low hangs the moon, it rose late, It is lagging--O I think it is heavy with love, with love.
O madly the sea pushes upon the land, With love, with love. What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud I call to you, my love! Hiqh and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, Surely you must know who is here, is here, You must know who I am, my love.
What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O it is the shape, the shape of my mate!
O moon do not keep her from me any longer. Whichever way I turn, 0 I think you could give me my mate back again if you only would, For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look. Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you. Sound clearer through the atmosphere!
Pierce the woods, the earth, Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want. Carols of lonesome love!
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon! O under that moon where she droops almost down into the sea!
O reckless despairing carols. O brown halo in the sky near the moon, drooping upon the sea! O troubled reflection in the sea! And I singing uselessly, uselessly all the niqht. In the air, in the woods, over fields, Loved! But my mate no more, no more with me! We two together no more. O give me the clew!"Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the nine month midnight " Cradle rocking shows images of a mother putting a baby to sleep.
This coincides with the musical shuffle, which describes the tides and ocean waves. "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" is one of Whitman's great poems because of his use of image and symbol.
The title itself is a symbol of birth. The sun and the moon, the land and the sea, and the stars and the sea waves contribute to the atmosphere and symbolic scenery in the poem. Nov 23, · Here's a virtual movie of the great Walt Whitman reading his exquisite poem "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" This poem was written in and incorpora.
The poem, Out of the Cradle, Endlessly Rocking, by Walt Whitman, is, superficially, on the subject of Whitman's origin and evolution as a person and as a poet. This story of affection and bereavement can be seen as a production of individual occurrences and feelings.5/5(1). Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking - Out of the cradle endlessly rocking.
This phrase pattern can be scanned; that is, The rhythm and sound of all prose are subject to analysis, but, compared with even the simplest verse, the “prosodic” structure of prose seems haphazard, unconsidered.
“ Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking” ().