Song of Myself (Part 10) - Walt Whitman
Moments of Solitude, Marriage by the Frontier, and Shelter for the Fleeing
Alone, far in the wilds and mountains, I hunt,
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee;
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game,
Falling asleep on the gathered leaves with my dog and gun by my side.
I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west—the bride was a red girl,
Her father and his friends sat near by cross-legged and dumbly smoking—they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders,
On a bank lounged the trapper—he was dressed mostly in skins—his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck,
He held his bride by the hand,
She had long eyelashes—her head was bare—her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her feet.
The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak,
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him,
And brought water and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d feet,
And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some coarse clean clothes,
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north,
I had him sit next me at table—my fire-lock lean’d in the corner.
In Part 10 of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” the poet presents three distinct vignettes that reflect the scope and diversity of the American experience. First, we follow a lone hunter in remote wilderness, reveling in nature’s freedom and raw beauty. The speaker’s relaxed delight in the mountains—and his simple routine of building a fire and resting with his dog—captures an unfiltered connection to the land.
From this scene, Whitman pivots to a frontier wedding. The event brings together a trapper and a Native American bride, observed by her silently smoking family. This setting highlights the intermingling of different cultures on the vast frontier. The description of the bride, with her unbound hair tumbling around her, underscores the fusion of wilderness and tenderness—a moment simultaneously rugged and intimate.
The final and perhaps most poignant section depicts the arrival of a runaway slave at the poet’s dwelling. Whitman’s response is immediate and humane: he tends the man’s physical needs, offers shelter, and ultimately helps him toward freedom. The poet’s kindness contrasts sharply with the harsh reality from which the slave has fled. Here, Whitman interweaves empathy with broader themes of liberation, unity, and shared responsibility, echoing the belief that no person should be marginalized or left behind.
By placing these stories side by side, Whitman encapsulates varied slices of American life—from the solitary wonder of uncharted lands to the forging of personal bonds across cultural lines and the moral imperative to help those in need. Part 10 beautifully illustrates Whitman’s passion for inclusion and his sweeping vision of a connected humanity. Through vivid narrative and rich imagery, these sketches invite readers to acknowledge our shared duty to care for one another, regardless of origins or circumstance. Ultimately, Whitman reminds us that whether at rest in the mountains, joining in matrimony, or extending a helping hand, each of us participates in a larger tapestry of existence.
Key points
• Solitude in nature fosters a deep sense of personal freedom.
• Frontier life blends different cultures, revealing both ruggedness and tenderness.
• Compassion for the vulnerable (like the runaway slave) is a moral cornerstone.
• Each scene highlights intertwined paths of humanity, rooted in empathy and shared experience.
• Ordinary acts—offering food, shelter, or companionship—carry profound significance in Whitman’s broad vision of unity.