Song of Myself (Part 6) - Walt Whitman
Reflections on Grass, Mortality, and the Cycle of Life
A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps,
And here you are the mothers’ laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and children?
They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
In this section of Walt Whitman’s seminal poem “Song of Myself,” the speaker engages with the image of grass as a powerful metaphor for life, death, and unity. The poem begins with a child’s question: “What is the grass?” Whitman’s inability to provide a definitive answer becomes the core of this passage, showing that simple inquiries often reveal hidden depths.
Whitman presents multiple interpretations of grass. Sometimes it is a symbol of hope, woven from the “green stuff” of his disposition. Elsewhere, it becomes the “handkerchief of the Lord,” suggesting a divine stamp in all living things. By exploring these varied perspectives, Whitman underscores the limitless interpretations and wonders found in everyday objects.
One of the poem’s most potent ideas is the shared humanity that grass represents. The speaker points out that grass sprouts in “broad zones and narrow zones” and grows among people of all races and social standings. In this sense, Whitman asserts that grass is a universal connector: the simple blade stretches across geographic, racial, and cultural boundaries, erasing superficial differences.
Further, Whitman’s reflection on graves as “the beautiful uncut hair” hints at the cycle of life. Grass grows from the resting places of the deceased, representing how new life emerges from death. This cyclical notion breaks down the barrier between living and dead, suggesting death is not an end but a transformation leading to continued life.
The speaker also links grass to the departed youth, old men, and children, implying that every generation contributes to the fertile soil from which grass springs. Whitman’s verses gently blur life and death, implying that though individuals vanish physically, their essence continues in the natural cycle. By weaving these ideas together, Whitman offers an uplifting view of mortality: death is “different from what any one supposed, and luckier.”
“Song of Myself (Part 6)” remains one of the most memorable passages of Whitman’s poetry because it beautifully illustrates his core themes of unity, universal kinship, and the sacredness of everyday phenomena. Grass, as the core image, embodies life’s mystery, the inevitability of death, and the continuous renewal that links us all.
In Whitman’s expansive vision, even death, traditionally feared, becomes integrated into a never-ending dance of existence. The poem stands as an invitation to wonder and to acknowledge that our world, like grass, is layered with meaning beyond human comprehension. Through the child’s question, Whitman opens a window into the profound interconnections that bind all living things, reminding us that our view of life and death shapes how we see ourselves and each other.
Key points
• Grass stands for a universal oneness that transcends social and geographical divisions.
• Death is portrayed not as an end, but as a gateway to renewal.
• Simple questions can reveal profound, cosmic truths.
• Whitman invites readers to see the sacred nature of the everyday world.
