emilym

Whitman’s “Drum-Taps” is a complete portrayal of war—the triumphant and the non-triumphant, the lovely and the ugly.  Every aspect of war is represented—and with equal energy and zeal.  While I say Whitman wrote with equal energy, I do not mean that he celebrated every moment:  He wrote “triumphant songs” and “cold dirges of the baffled/ And sullen hymns of defeat” (“Year that Trembled” 4-6).  By this I mean that he gave everything equal attention and drove his images home, making his audience feel the full range of emotions that come in a war.

One effect of covering one topic so completely is the blending of loveliness and ugliness—sometimes within the same line.  For example, in “As Toilsome I Wander’d Virginia’s Woods,” Whitman repeats the line “Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade” (7).  This line is italicized, and it is the makeshift tombstone for a dead soldier:  a “tablet scrawl’d and nail’d on the tree by the grave” (6).  This image is both lovely and ugly.  The words used to describe the fallen soldier are indicative of a comradery between the men of the unit, but the fact that those words were written quickly on a piece of paper and nailed to a tree illustrate how quickly events transpire in a war—and how even the mourning process must be sped up.

Whitman addresses the constant motion of the world in these poems.  These reminders of the on-going motion of life serve to link those fighting in the war with those waiting at home.  Life goes on for the wound-dresser nursing the dying, the mother back on the farm who just lost her only son, and the men on the frontlines.  Whitman illustrates this in “The Wound-Dresser:” “While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,/So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand” (21-22).  In other words, life will go on for those alive, seeking to move forward and triumph, but the dead will be forgotten, their mark on the world washed away and replaced by the marks of the living.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just a fact of life.  The ones who live have a responsibility to go on, as the nurse in “The Wound Dresser” does:  “On, on I go” (39).  There are many wounded and dying men who need attention from the nurse, so he must keep going on.

Because the world keeps moving forward, those lucky enough to survive a battle or war are able to experience a moment of triumph.  Whitman describes these triumphant moments in celebratory images.  In “Cavalry Crossing a Ford,” Whitman creates the image of a flag waving triumphantly through the air:  “Scarlet and blue and snowy white,/The guidon flags flutter gayly in the wind” (6-7).  This is a moment of celebration and a lovely image.

Sometimes Whitman provides lines that explain his intentions as poet.  Some lines apply to more than just the poems in which they are featured, but in the entire section of poems.  In “City of Ships,” he provides a few such lines:  “I chant and celebrate all that is yours—yet peace no more,/In peace I chanted peace, but now the drum of war is mine,/War, red war is my song through your streets, O city!” (15-17).  These lines indicate that Whitman will write of the entire human experience—including war and death—with equal energy.  He might not find every detail pretty, or worthy of celebration, but he will sing the songs of existence.