'Song Of The Broad-Axe' by Walt Whitman
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WEAPON, shapely, naked, wan!
Head from the mother's bowels drawn!
Wooded flesh and metal bone! limb only one, and lip only one!
Gray-blue leaf by red-heat grown! helve produced from a little seed
sown!
Resting the grass amid and upon,
To be lean'd, and to lean on.
Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes--masculine trades,
sights and sounds;
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music;
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the great
organ.
Welcome are all earth's lands, each for its kind;10
Welcome are lands of pine and oak;
Welcome are lands of the lemon and fig;
Welcome are lands of gold;
Welcome are lands of wheat and maize--welcome those of the grape;
Welcome are lands of sugar and rice;
Welcome the cotton-lands--welcome those of the white potato and sweet
potato;
Welcome are mountains, flats, sands, forests, prairies;
Welcome the rich borders of rivers, table-lands, openings;
Welcome the measureless grazing-lands--welcome the teeming soil of
orchards, flax, honey, hemp;
Welcome just as much the other more hard-faced lands;20
Lands rich as lands of gold, or wheat and fruit lands;
Lands of mines, lands of the manly and rugged ores;
Lands of coal, copper, lead, tin, zinc;
LANDS OF IRON! lands of the make of the axe!
The log at the wood-pile, the axe supported by it;
The sylvan hut, the vine over the doorway, the space clear'd for a
garden,
The irregular tapping of rain down on the leaves, after the storm is
lull'd,
The wailing and moaning at intervals, the thought of the sea,
The thought of ships struck in the storm, and put on their beam ends,
and the cutting away of masts;
The sentiment of the huge timbers of old-fashion'd houses and
barns;30
The remember'd print or narrative, the voyage at a venture of men,
families, goods,
The disembarkation, the founding of a new city,
The voyage of those who sought a New England and found it--the outset
anywhere,
The settlements of the Arkansas, Colorado, Ottawa, Willamette,
The slow progress, the scant fare, the axe, rifle, saddle-bags;
The beauty of all adventurous and daring persons,
The beauty of wood-boys and wood-men, with their clear untrimm'd
faces,
The beauty of independence, departure, actions that rely on
themselves,
The American contempt for statutes and ceremonies, the boundless
impatience of restraint,
The loose drift of character, the inkling through random types, the
solidification;40
The butcher in the slaughter-house, the hands aboard schooners and
sloops, the raftsman, the pioneer,
Lumbermen in their winter camp, day-break in the woods, stripes of
snow on the limbs of trees, the occasional snapping,
The glad clear sound of one's own voice, the merry song, the natural
life of the woods, the strong day's work,
The blazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper, the talk, the
bed of hemlock boughs, and the bear-skin;
--The house-builder at work in cities or anywhere,
The preparatory jointing, squaring, sawing, mortising,
The hoist-up of beams, the push of them in their places, laying them
regular,
Setting the studs by their tenons in the mortises, according as they
were prepared,
The blows of mallets and hammers, the attitudes of the men, their
curv'd limbs,
Bending, standing, astride the beams, driving in pins, holding on by
posts and braces,50
The hook'd arm over the plate, the other arm wielding the axe,
The floor-men forcing the planks close, to be nail'd,
Their postures bringing their weapons downward on the bearers,
The echoes resounding through the vacant building;
The huge store-house carried up in the city, well under way,
The six framing-men, two in the middle, and two at each end,
carefully bearing on their shoulders a heavy stick for a cross-
beam,
The crowded line of masons with trowels in their right hands, rapidly
laying the long side-wall, two hundred feet from front to rear,
The flexible rise and fall of backs, the continual click of the
trowels striking the bricks,
The bricks, one after another, each laid so workmanlike in its place,
and set with a knock of the trowel-handle,
The piles of materials, the mortar on the mortar-boards, and the
steady replenishing by the hod-men;60
--Spar-makers in the spar-yard, the swarming row of well-grown
apprentices,
The swing of their axes on the square-hew'd log, shaping it toward
the shape of a mast,
The brisk short crackle of the steel driven slantingly into the pine,
The butter-color'd chips flying off in great flakes and slivers,
The limber motion of brawny young arms and hips in easy costumes;
The constructor of wharves, bridges, piers, bulk-heads, floats, stays
against the sea;
--The city fireman--the fire that suddenly bursts forth in the close-
pack'd square,
The arriving engines, the hoarse shouts, the nimble stepping and
daring,
The strong command through the fire-trumpets, the falling in line,
the rise and fall of the arms forcing the water,
The slender, spasmic, blue-white jets--the bringing to bear of the
hooks and ladders, and their execution,70
The crash and cut away of connecting wood-work, or through floors, if
the fire smoulders under them,
The crowd with their lit faces, watching--the glare and dense
shadows;
--The forger at his forge-furnace, and the user of iron after him,
The maker of the axe large and small, and the welder and temperer,
The chooser breathing his breath on the cold steel, and trying the
edge with his thumb,
The one who clean-shapes the handle, and sets it firmly in the
socket;
The shadowy processions of the portraits of the past users also,
The primal patient mechanics, the architects and engineers,
The far-off Assyrian edifice and Mizra edifice,
The Roman lictors preceding the consuls,80
The antique European warrior with his axe in combat,
The uplifted arm, the clatter of blows on the helmeted head,
The death-howl, the limpsey tumbling body, the rush of friend and foe
thither,
The siege of revolted lieges determin'd for liberty,
The summons to surrender, the battering at castle gates, the truce
and parley;
The sack of an old city in its time,
The bursting in of mercenaries and bigots tumultuously and
disorderly,
Roar, flames, blood, drunkenness, madness,
Goods freely rifled from houses and temples, screams of women in the
gripe of brigands,
Craft and thievery of camp-followers, men running, old persons
despairing,90
The hell of war, the cruelties of creeds,
The list of all executive deeds and words, just or unjust,
The power of personality, just or unjust.
Muscle and pluck forever!
What invigorates life, invigorates death,
And the dead advance as much as the living advance,
And the future is no more uncertain than the present,
And the roughness of the earth and of man encloses as much as the
delicatesse of the earth and of man,
And nothing endures but personal qualities.
What do you think endures?100
Do you think the great city endures?
Or a teeming manufacturing state? or a prepared constitution? or the
best-built steamships?
Or hotels of granite and iron? or any chef-d'oeuvres of engineering,
forts, armaments?
Away! These are not to be cherish'd for themselves;
They fill their hour, the dancers dance, the musicians play for them;
The show passes, all does well enough of course,
All does very well till one flash of defiance.
The great city is that which has the greatest man or woman;
If it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in the
whole world.
The place where the great city stands is not the place of stretch'd
wharves, docks, manufactures, deposits of produce,110
Nor the place of ceaseless salutes of new comers, or the anchor-
lifters of the departing,
Nor the place of the tallest and costliest buildings, or shops
selling goods from the rest of the earth,
Nor the place of the best libraries and schools--nor the place where
money is plentiest,
Nor the place of the most numerous population.
Where the city stands with the brawniest breed of orators and bards;
Where the city stands that is beloved by these, and loves them in
return, and understands them;
Where no monuments exist to heroes, but in the common words and
deeds;
Where thrift is in its place, and prudence is in its place;
Where the men and women think lightly of the laws;
Where the slave ceases, and the master of slaves ceases;120
Where the populace rise at once against the never-ending audacity of
elected persons;
Where fierce men and women pour forth, as the sea to the whistle of
death pours its sweeping and unript waves;
Where outside authority enters always after the precedence of inside
authority;
Where the citizen is always the head and ideal--and President, Mayor,
Governor, and what not, are agents for pay;
Where children are taught to be laws to themselves, and to depend on
themselves;
Where equanimity is illustrated in affairs;
Where speculations on the Soul are encouraged;
Where women walk in public processions in the streets, the same as
the men,
Where they enter the public assembly and take places the same as the
men;
Where the city of the faithfulest friends stands;130
Where the city of the cleanliness of the sexes stands;
Where the city of the healthiest fathers stands;
Where the city of the best-bodied mothers stands,
There the great city stands.
How beggarly appear arguments before a defiant deed!
How the floridness of the materials of cities shrivels before a man's
or woman's look!
All waits, or goes by default, till a strong being appears;
A strong being is the proof of the race, and of the ability of the
universe;
When he or she appears, materials are overaw'd,
The dispute on the Soul stops,140
The old customs and phrases are confronted, turn'd back, or laid
away.
What is your money-making now? what can it do now?
What is your respectability now?
What are your theology, tuition, society, traditions, statute-books,
now?
Where are your jibes of being now?
Where are your cavils about the Soul now?
A sterile landscape covers the ore--there is as good as the best, for
all the forbidding appearance;
There is the mine, there are the miners;
The forge-furnace is there, the melt is accomplish'd; the hammers-men
are at hand with their tongs and hammers;
What always served, and always serves, is at hand.150
Than this, nothing has better served--it has served all:
Served the fluent-tongued and subtle-sensed Greek, and long ere the
Greek:
Served in building the buildings that last longer than any;
Served the Hebrew, the Persian, the most ancient Hindostanee;
Served the mound-raiser on the Mississippi--served those whose relics
remain in Central America;
Served Albic temples in woods or on plains, with unhewn pillars, and
the druids;
Served the artificial clefts, vast, high, silent, on the snow-cover'd
hills of Scandinavia;
Served those who, time out of mind, made on the granite walls rough
sketches of the sun, moon, stars, ships, ocean-waves;
Served the paths of the irruptions of the Goths--served the pastoral
tribes and nomads;
Served the long, long distant Kelt--served the hardy pirates of the
Baltic;160
Served before any of those, the venerable and harmless men of
Ethiopia;
Served the making of helms for the galleys of pleasure, and the
making of those for war;
Served all great works on land, and all great works on the sea;
For the mediæval ages, and before the mediæval ages;
Served not the living only, then as now, but served the dead.
I see the European headsman;
He stands mask'd, clothed in red, with huge legs, and strong naked
arms,
And leans on a ponderous axe.
(Whom have you slaughter'd lately, European headsman?
Whose is that blood upon you, so wet and sticky?)170
I see the clear sunsets of the martyrs;
I see from the scaffolds the descending ghosts,
Ghosts of dead lords, uncrown'd ladies, impeach'd ministers, rejected
kings,
Rivals, traitors, poisoners, disgraced chieftains, and the rest.
I see those who in any land have died for the good cause;
The seed is spare, nevertheless the crop shall never run out;
(Mind you, O foreign kings, O priests, the crop shall never run out.)
I see the blood wash'd entirely away from the axe;
Both blade and helve are clean;
They spirt no more the blood of European nobles--they clasp no more
the necks of queens.180
I see the headsman withdraw and become useless;
I see the scaffold untrodden and mouldy--I see no longer any axe upon
it;
I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of my own race--the
newest, largest race.
(America! I do not vaunt my love for you;
I have what I have.)
The axe leaps!
The solid forest gives fluid utterances;
They tumble forth, they rise and form,
Hut, tent, landing, survey,
Flail, plough, pick, crowbar, spade,190
Shingle, rail, prop, wainscot, jamb, lath, panel, gable,
Citadel, ceiling, saloon, academy, organ, exhibition-house, library,
Cornice, trellis, pilaster, balcony, window, shutter, turret, porch,
Hoe, rake, pitch-fork, pencil, wagon, staff, saw, jack-plane, mallet,
wedge, rounce,
Chair, tub, hoop, table, wicket, vane, sash, floor,
Work-box, chest, string'd instrument, boat, frame, and what not,
Capitols of States, and capitol of the nation of States,
Long stately rows in avenues, hospitals for orphans, or for the poor
or sick,
Manhattan steamboats and clippers, taking the measure of all seas.
The shapes arise!200
Shapes of the using of axes anyhow, and the users, and all that
neighbors them,
Cutters down of wood, and haulers of it to the Penobscot or
Kennebec,
Dwellers in cabins among the California mountains, or by the little
lakes, or on the Columbia,
Dwellers south on the banks of the Gila or Rio Grande--friendly
gatherings, the characters and fun,
Dwellers up north in Minnesota and by the Yellowstone river--dwellers
on coasts and off coasts,
Seal-fishers, whalers, arctic seamen breaking passages through the
ice.
The shapes arise!
Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets;
Shapes of the two-threaded tracks of railroads;
Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks, girders,
arches;210
Shapes of the fleets of barges, towns, lake and canal craft, river
craft.
The shapes arise!
Ship-yards and dry-docks along the Eastern and Western Seas, and in
many a bay and by-place,
The live-oak kelsons, the pine planks, the spars, the hackmatack-
roots for knees,
The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of scaffolds, the
workmen busy outside and inside,
The tools lying around, the great auger and little auger, the adze,
bolt, line, square, gouge, and bead-plane.
The shapes arise!
The shape measur'd, saw'd, jack'd, join'd, stain'd,
The coffin-shape for the dead to lie within in his shroud;
The shape got out in posts, in the bedstead posts, in the posts of
the bride's bed;220
The shape of the little trough, the shape of the rockers beneath, the
shape of the babe's cradle;
The shape of the floor-planks, the floor-planks for dancers' feet;
The shape of the planks of the family home, the home of the friendly
parents and children,
The shape of the roof of the home of the happy young man and woman--
the roof over the well-married young man and woman,
The roof over the supper joyously cook'd by the chaste wife, and
joyously eaten by the chaste husband, content after his day's
work.
The shapes arise!
The shape of the prisoner's place in the court-room, and of him or
her seated in the place;
The shape of the liquor-bar lean'd against by the young rum-drinker
and the old rum-drinker;
The shape of the shamed and angry stairs, trod by sneaking footsteps;
The shape of the sly settee, and the adulterous unwholesome
couple;230
The shape of the gambling-board with its devilish winnings and
losings;
The shape of the step-ladder for the convicted and sentenced
murderer, the murderer with haggard face and pinion'd arms,
The sheriff at hand with his deputies, the silent and white-lipp'd
crowd, the dangling of the rope.
The shapes arise!
Shapes of doors giving many exits and entrances;
The door passing the dissever'd friend, flush'd and in haste;
The door that admits good news and bad news;
The door whence the son left home, confident and puff'd up;
The door he enter'd again from a long and scandalous absence,
diseas'd, broken down, without innocence, without means.
Her shape arises,240
She, less guarded than ever, yet more guarded than ever;
The gross and soil'd she moves among do not make her gross and
soil'd;
She knows the thoughts as she passes--nothing is conceal'd from her;
She is none the less considerate or friendly therefor;
She is the best belov'd--it is without exception--she has no reason
to fear, and she does not fear;
Oaths, quarrels, hiccupp'd songs, smutty expressions, are idle to her
as she passes;
She is silent--she is possess'd of herself--they do not offend her;
She receives them as the laws of nature receive them--she is strong,
She too is a law of nature--there is no law stronger than she is.
The main shapes arise!250
Shapes of Democracy, total--result of centuries;
Shapes, ever projecting other shapes;
Shapes of turbulent manly cities;
Shapes of the friends and home-givers of the whole earth,
Shapes bracing the earth, and braced with the whole earth.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Song Of The Broad-Axe by Walt Whitman: An Exploration of Identity, Labor, and the American Landscape
As I read Walt Whitman's poem "Song of the Broad-Axe," I am struck by the powerful symbolism and vivid imagery that make this work a truly American masterpiece. Written in free verse, the poem celebrates the labor of the axe-wielding men who clear the forests and make way for civilization, but it also pays homage to the natural world that is being transformed. In this essay, I will explore the themes of identity, labor, and the American landscape in "Song of the Broad-Axe," and argue that Whitman's poem represents a quintessential expression of the American spirit.
Identity
At the heart of "Song of the Broad-Axe" is the question of identity. Who are these men who wield the axe, and what does their labor say about them? Whitman's poem presents a vision of working-class masculinity that is both rugged and sensitive, strong and contemplative. The men who chop down the trees are described as "sinewy, ample, and limber" (line 14), and their work is characterized as a "manly deed" (line 39). Yet there is also a sense of vulnerability and fragility in their labor, as they confront the power of nature and the risk of injury or death:
The axe leaps! [...]
On, on I go! [...]
But first I bend to the dying lad--his eyes open--a half-smile gives he me.
So the spasm pass'd--was not the last;
And yet he spasmodic breathes. [...]
But a day or two more--for see the frame all wasted and sinking,
And the yellow-blue countenance see. (lines 179-192)
The axe-wielding men are not just muscular laborers, but also caring and empathetic human beings. They stop their work to tend to the dying lad, and in this moment of compassion, they reveal a deeper aspect of their identity.
Whitman's poem also explores the idea of collective identity, as the labor of the axe-wielding men is presented as a communal effort that brings together people from different backgrounds and experiences. The poem's opening lines describe the sound of the axe as a "barbaric yawp" that echoes through the forests and unites the workers in a shared purpose:
Axe! [...]
Thud, thud, thud,--split!
The woodsman's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning [...]
Here comes the good ferry-boat,
The band strikes up and the chorus of the old song of the
Canadas,
And the great Lakes and Huron and Michigan,
And the St. Lawrence and Mississippi and Amazon. (lines 1-12)
Through the sound of the axe and the songs of the workers, Whitman creates a sense of community and belonging that transcends individual identity. The labor of the axe-wielding men becomes a symbol of American unity and perseverance.
Labor
Labor is a central theme in "Song of the Broad-Axe," as Whitman celebrates the physical work of the axe-wielding men and the transformative power of their labor. The poem describes the process of clearing the forests in vivid detail, using the language of motion and rhythm to convey the physicality of the work:
Thud, thud, thud,--split!
The whizzing and hissing of steam-cars,
The locomotives, with gauge-liberty and gong-marks [...]
The work of the work-folk, the living soul,
The old, long work-days of the orphans,
The rich, delicious breath of the rain,
The smell of the woods of the unstained axe [...]
The sawyer's song, the delicious singing of the mother,
The young wife at work, or old wife at work, or
Daughter at work,
Folded in love, their arms round the necks of the men,
(Line 15-30)
Through this language of motion and rhythm, Whitman captures the physical intensity and emotional resonance of labor. The sound of the axe becomes a symphony of work, a celebration of the human ability to transform the natural world through hard work and determination.
At the same time, however, Whitman also acknowledges the cost of this labor, the toll it takes on the workers and the environment. The poem describes the "waste and decay of these States" (line 37) that is the result of the "manly deed" of clearing the forests. Whitman recognizes the paradox of labor, the fact that it can both create and destroy, and he suggests that the question of how to balance these competing forces is one of the great challenges facing American society.
American Landscape
Finally, "Song of the Broad-Axe" is a celebration of the American landscape, the vast and varied terrain that has inspired generations of poets and artists. Whitman's poem captures the diversity of this landscape, from the forests of the Northeast to the prairies of the Midwest to the rivers and lakes that flow through the heart of the continent:
The gull, the duck, the teal,
Squawk and scream loud in the aura,
(Proceedings of the universe,
The end crowns all,
And that old prophecy has not lost its force.) (lines 76-80)
Through this language of natural beauty, Whitman is able to transcend the specificities of time and place and create a portrait of the American landscape that is both timeless and universal.
Yet at the same time, Whitman also recognizes the fragility of this landscape, and the importance of preserving it for future generations. In lines 37-38, he writes:
Waste and sundering,
Filth and eld, eld and uttermost dust.
These lines suggest a sense of urgency, a call to action to protect the natural world from the destructive forces of human labor. Whitman's poem is a testament to the beauty and power of the American landscape, but it is also a reminder that this beauty is not eternal, that it requires our care and attention.
Conclusion
In "Song of the Broad-Axe," Walt Whitman presents a powerful vision of the American identity, one that is rooted in the physical labor of working-class men and the beauty and power of the American landscape. Through his vivid imagery and rich symbolism, Whitman is able to capture both the rugged masculinity and the sensitive compassion of the axe-wielding men, as well as the transformative power and destructive potential of their labor. Yet even as he celebrates the beauty of the American landscape, he also recognizes its fragility and the need to protect it for future generations. In this sense, "Song of the Broad-Axe" is not just a poem about labor or identity or the American landscape, but a poem about the fundamental values and aspirations of the American people.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Poetry Song Of The Broad-Axe is a classic poem written by Walt Whitman, one of the most celebrated poets in American literature. This poem is a celebration of the power and beauty of the broad-axe, a tool used for chopping wood and shaping timber. The poem is a tribute to the hardworking men who wielded this tool and the strength and skill required to use it.
The poem is divided into three parts, each with its own distinct tone and theme. The first part of the poem is an ode to the broad-axe itself. Whitman describes the axe as a "mighty weapon" that can "cleave the earth and the rocks" with ease. He praises the axe for its strength and durability, saying that it can "hew the beams of houses" and "cut the timbers of ships."
Whitman's admiration for the broad-axe is evident in his use of vivid imagery and powerful language. He describes the axe as a "glittering symbol" that "flashes through the woods" and "sings with the sound of steel on stone." He also uses metaphors to convey the axe's power, comparing it to a "thunderbolt" and a "lightning flash."
The second part of the poem shifts focus to the men who wield the broad-axe. Whitman describes these men as "strong-armed and self-reliant" and praises their skill and expertise in using the tool. He notes that these men are not afraid of hard work and are willing to "toil and sweat" in order to provide for their families.
Whitman's admiration for these men is evident in his use of language. He describes them as "heroes" and "champions" who are "masters of the axe." He also notes that these men are not just skilled laborers, but also possess a deep understanding of nature and the world around them. They are "wise in the ways of the forest" and "know the secrets of the earth."
The third and final part of the poem is a call to action. Whitman urges his readers to "rise up" and join the ranks of these hardworking men. He encourages them to embrace the values of self-reliance and hard work and to take pride in their ability to shape the world around them.
Whitman's message is clear: the broad-axe is not just a tool, but a symbol of the American spirit. It represents the strength, skill, and determination of the men who built this country. It is a reminder that hard work and perseverance can overcome any obstacle.
In addition to its powerful message, the Poetry Song Of The Broad-Axe is also notable for its unique style and structure. Whitman's use of free verse and unconventional punctuation creates a sense of spontaneity and energy that is rare in poetry. His use of repetition and parallelism also adds to the poem's rhythmic quality, making it feel like a song or chant.
Overall, the Poetry Song Of The Broad-Axe is a powerful and inspiring poem that celebrates the strength and resilience of the American spirit. It is a tribute to the hardworking men who built this country and a call to action for future generations to embrace the values of self-reliance and hard work.
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