Song of Myself (Part 5) - Walt Whitman
A Reflection on the Deep Union of Body and Soul
I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and joy and knowledge that pass all the art and argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves, stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.
In the fifth section of Walt Whitman’s monumental poem "Song of Myself," the poet addresses the interplay between the soul and the physical self. Whitman presents the soul not as an abstract entity that exists apart from the body, but rather as something intimately bound to human experience. From the opening lines, Whitman insists that neither the soul nor the body should abase itself before the other, suggesting an inherent equality between these two facets of our being.
He sets the scene on a shared bed of grass, an emblem of natural simplicity, where words and formalities are stripped away. This setting is essential: it highlights the poet’s belief that direct, unmediated communion—both with nature and with one another—offers a deeper truth than any lecture or organized system. The grass also resonates as a universal symbol throughout "Leaves of Grass," reinforcing the idea of democracy and inclusiveness.
The poem then moves into a tender recollection: the speaker and the beloved (or the soul) share a moment of unguarded intimacy. Whitman uses vivid physical imagery—heads resting on hips, a shirt parted, a tongue touching a “bare-stript heart”—to convey that spiritual insight and profound connection can arise from very physical, sensual experiences. This suggests that the body’s sensations are a gateway to understanding universal truths, rather than a barrier.
Following this intense encounter, Whitman describes a sudden rush of “peace and joy and knowledge,” which surpasses any human-made art or argument. This euphoria leads him to recognize the interconnectedness of all beings: he sees that each individual is linked through the presence of the divine (the “hand of God” and the “spirit of God”). Consequently, every person is family—men are his brothers, women his sisters and lovers—and love is the fundamental anchor (the “kelson”) of creation.
In the final lines, Whitman broadens his scope once again, reminding the reader that this connectedness extends to all living things—every leaf in the field, every ant, and the commonplace plants that dot the American landscape. By placing love at the center of creation, he affirms his conviction that no aspect of life is too humble or insignificant to be part of the grand, interwoven scheme of existence. In doing so, Whitman elevates both the soul and the body, insisting that each has a vital role to play in the expansive drama of life, and that understanding their unity can guide us toward a deeper experience of the world around us.
Key points
• Body and soul are equally significant, neither should be subservient to the other.
• Nature is a powerful setting for personal, spiritual insight.
• Physical intimacy can lead to profound spiritual truths.
• All individuals, and indeed all living things, share a fundamental bond.
• Love, for Whitman, is the central force that unites creation.
