{"id":15789,"date":"2020-02-26T20:27:21","date_gmt":"2020-02-27T04:27:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/travelingboy.com\/travel\/?p=15789"},"modified":"2020-08-05T21:29:55","modified_gmt":"2020-08-06T04:29:55","slug":"out-of-the-cradle-endlessly-rocking","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/travelingboy.com\/travel\/out-of-the-cradle-endlessly-rocking\/","title":{"rendered":"Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking"},"content":{"rendered":"

Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking<\/h1>\n

Walt Whitman<\/a> \u2014 1819-1892<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
\nOut of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
\nOut of the Ninth-month midnight,
\nOver the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot,<\/a>
\nDown from the shower’d halo,
\nUp from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as if they were alive,
\nOut from the patches of briers and blackberries,
\nFrom the memories of the bird that chanted to me,<\/a>
\nFrom your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
\nFrom under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as if with tears,
\nFrom those beginning notes of yearning and love there in the mist,
\nFrom the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,
\nFrom the myriad thence-arous’d words,
\nFrom the word stronger and more delicious than any,<\/a>
\nFrom such as now they start the scene revisiting,
\nAs a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
\nBorne hither, ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
\nA man, yet by these tears a little boy again,
\nThrowing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
\nI, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
\nTaking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,
\nA reminiscence sing.<\/p>\n

Once Paumanok,<\/span>
\nWhen the lilac-scent was in the air and Fifth-month grass was growing,<\/span>
\nUp this seashore in some briers,<\/span>
\nTwo feather’d guests from Alabama, two together,<\/span>
\nAnd their nest, and four light-green eggs spotted with brown,<\/span>
\nAnd every day the he-bird to and fro near at hand,<\/span>
\nAnd every day the she-bird crouch’d on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,<\/span>
\nAnd every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them,<\/span>
\nCautiously peering, absorbing, translating.<\/span><\/p>\n

Shine! shine! shine!<\/em>
\nPour down your warmth, great sun! <\/em>
\nWhile we bask, we two together.<\/em><\/p>\n

Two together!<\/em>
\nWinds blow south, or winds blow north,<\/em>
\nDay come white, or niqht come black,<\/em>
\nHome, or rivers and mountains from home,<\/em>
\nSinging all time, minding no time,<\/em>
\nWhile we two keep together.<\/em><\/p>\n

Till of a sudden,<\/span>
\nMay-be kill’d, unknown to her mate,<\/span>
\nOne forenoon the she-bird crouch’d not on the nest, <\/span>
\nNor return’d that afternoon, nor the next, <\/span>
\nNor ever appear’d again.<\/span><\/p>\n

And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea,<\/span>
\nAnd at night under the full of the moon in calmer weather,<\/span>
\nOver the hoarse surging of the sea,<\/span>
\nOr flitting from brier to brier by day,<\/span>
\nI saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird,<\/span>
\nThe solitary guest from Alabama.<\/span><\/p>\n

Blow! blow! blow!<\/em>
\nBlow up sea-winds along Paumanok’s shore;<\/em>
\nI wait and I wait till you blow my mate to me<\/em>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Yes, when the stars glisten’d,<\/span>
\nAll night long on the prong of a moss-scallop’d stake,<\/span>
\nDown almost amid the slapping waves,<\/span>
\nSat the lone singer wonderful causing tears.<\/span><\/p>\n

He call’d on his mate,<\/span>
\nHe pour’d forth the meanings which I of all men know.<\/span>
\nYes my brother I know,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>
\nThe rest might not, but I have treasur’d every note,<\/span>
\nFor more than once dimly down to the beach gliding,<\/span>
\nSilent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the <\/span>
\nshadows,<\/span>
\nRecalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds<\/span>
\nand sights after their sorts,<\/span>
\nThe white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, <\/span>
\nI, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, <\/span>
\nListen’d long and long.<\/span><\/p>\n

Listen’d to keep, to sing, now translating the notes, <\/span>
\nFollowing you my brother.<\/span><\/p>\n

Soothe! soothe! soothe!<\/em>
\nClose on its wave soothes the wave behind,\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em>
\nAnd again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close,<\/em>
\nBut my love soothes not me, not me.\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

Low hangs the moon, it rose late,<\/em>
\nIt is lagging \u2014 O I think it is heavy with love, with love.<\/em><\/p>\n

O madly the sea pushes upon the land, <\/em>
\nWith love, with love. <\/em><\/p>\n

O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers? <\/em>
\nWhat is that little black thing I see there in the white?<\/em><\/p>\n

Loud! loud! loud!<\/em>
\nLoud I call to you, my love!<\/em><\/p>\n

Hiqh and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, <\/em>
\nSurely you must know who is here, is here, <\/em>
\nYou must know who I am, my love.<\/em><\/p>\n

Low-hanging moon!<\/em>
\nWhat is that dusky spot in your brown yellow?<\/em>
\nO it is the shape, the shape of my mate!<\/em>
\nO moon do not keep her from me any longer.<\/em><\/p>\n

Land! land! O land!<\/em>
\nWhichever way I turn, 0 I think you could give me my mate back again if you only would,<\/em>
\nFor I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.<\/em><\/p>\n

O rising stars!<\/em>
\nPerhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you.<\/em><\/p>\n

O throat! 0 trembling throat! <\/em>
\nSound clearer through the atmosphere! <\/em>
\nPierce the woods, the earth, <\/em>
\nSomewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want.<\/em><\/p>\n

Shake out carols!<\/em>
\nSolitary here, the niqht’s carols! <\/em>
\nCarols of lonesome love! death’s carols!<\/em>
\nCarols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon!<\/em>
\nO under that moon where she droops almost down into the sea! <\/em>
\nO reckless despairing carols.<\/em><\/p>\n

But soft! sink low! <\/em>
\nSoft! let me just murmur, <\/em>
\nAnd do you wait a moment you husky-nois’d sea,<\/em>
\nFor somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding to me,<\/em>
\nSo faint, I must be still, be still to listen, <\/em>
\nBut not altogether still, for then she might not come immediately to me.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hither my love! <\/em>
\nHere I am! here!<\/em>
\nWith this just-sustain’d note I announce myself to you, <\/em>
\nThis gentle call is for you my love, for you.<\/em><\/p>\n

Do not be decoy’d elsewhere,<\/em>
\nThat is the whistle of the wind, it is not my voice,<\/em>
\nThat is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray,<\/em>
\nThose are the shadows of leaves.<\/em><\/p>\n

O darkness! 0 in vain! <\/em>
\n0 I am very sick and sorrowful.<\/em>
\nO brown halo in the sky near the moon, drooping upon the sea!<\/em>
\nO troubled reflection in the sea!\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em>
\nO throat! 0 throbbing heart!<\/em>
\nAnd I singing uselessly, uselessly all the night.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

0 past! 0 happy life! 0 songs of joy!<\/em>
\nIn the air, in the woods, over fields,<\/em>
\nLoved! loved! loved! loved! loved!<\/em>
\nBut my mate no more, no more with me!<\/em>
\nWe two together no more.<\/em><\/p>\n

The aria sinking,<\/span>
\nAll else continuing, the stars shining,<\/span>
\nThe winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuous echoing,<\/span>
\nWith angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning,<\/span>
\nOn the sands of Paumanok’s shore gray and rustling,<\/span>
\nThe yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping, the face of the sea almost touching,<\/span>
\nThe boy ecstatic, with his bare feet the waves, with his hair the atmosphere dallying,<\/span>
\nThe love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last tumultuously bursting,<\/span>
\nThe aria’s meaning, the ears, the soul, swiftly depositing,<\/span>
\nThe strange tears down the cheeks coursing,<\/span>
\nThe colloquy there, the trio, each uttering,<\/span>
\nThe undertone, the savage old mother incessantly crying,<\/span>
\nTo the boy’s soul’s questions sullenly timing, some drown’d secret hissing,<\/span>
\nTo the outsetting bard.<\/span><\/p>\n

Demon or bird! (said the boy’s soul,)<\/span>
\nIs it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it really to me?<\/span>
\nFor I, that was a child, my tongue’s use sleeping, now I have heard you,<\/span>
\nNow in a moment I know what I am for, I awake,<\/span>
\nAnd already a thousand singers, a thousand songs, clearer, louder and more sorrowful than yours,<\/span>
\nA thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me, never to die. <\/span><\/p>\n

O you singer solitary, singing by yourself, projecting me, <\/span>
\nO solitary me listening, never more shall I cease perpetuating you,<\/span>
\nNever more shall I escape, never more the reverberations, <\/span>
\nNever more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me, <\/span>
\nNever again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there in the night,<\/span>
\nBy the sea under the yellow and sagging moon, <\/span>
\nThe messenger there arous’d, the fire, the sweet hell within,<\/span>
\nThe unknown want, the destiny of me.<\/span><\/p>\n

O give me the clew! (it lurks in the night here somewhere,) <\/span>
\nO if I am to have so much, let me have more!<\/span><\/p>\n

A word then, (for I will conquer it,)<\/span>
\nThe word final, superior to all,<\/span>
\nSubtle, sent up \u2014 what is it? \u2014 I listen;<\/span>
\nAre you whispering it, and have been all the time, you sea-waves?<\/span>
\nIs that it from your liquid rims and wet sands?<\/span><\/p>\n

Whereto answering, the sea, <\/span>
\nDelaying not, hurrying not, <\/span>
\nWhisper’d me through the night, and very plainly before daybreak,<\/span>
\nLisp’d to me the low and delicious word death, <\/span>
\nAnd again death, death, death, death, <\/span>
\nHissing melodious, neither like the bird nor like my arous’d child’s heart,<\/span>
\nBut edging near as privately for me rustling at my feet, <\/span>
\nCreeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over,<\/span>
\nDeath, death, death, death, death.<\/span><\/p>\n

Which I do not forget, <\/span>
\nBut fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother, <\/span>
\nThat he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok’s gray beach,<\/span>
\nWith the thousand responsive songs at random, <\/span>
\nMy own songs awaked from that hour,<\/span>
\nAnd with them the key, the word up from the waves,<\/span>
\nThe word of the sweetest song and all songs,<\/span>
\nThat strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet,<\/span>
\n(Or like some old crone rocking the cradle, swathed in sweet garments, bending aside,)<\/span>
\nThe sea whisper’d me.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking Walt Whitman \u2014 1819-1892 Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight, Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child leaving his bed wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot, Down from the shower’d halo, Up from the …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":278,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15789","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\nOut of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking - Traveling Archive<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/travelingboy.com\/travel\/out-of-the-cradle-endlessly-rocking\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking - 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