“Leaves of Grass” stands first of all for that something back of phenomena, in phenomena, which gives it all its significance,
That which eludes this verse and any verse,
Which eludes definition, cannot be described,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform’d in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
Yet is the most real thing of all, the real of the real.

I convey what I want to convey by models or illustrations of the results I demand, convey these by characters, selections of incidents and behaviour. Beneath, around, are contributing forces, which do not come out in the superficial exposé. I have kept the roots well underground.

I am probably fond of viewing all really great themes indirectly, and by side-ways and suggestions. There shall be no subject too pronounced. This indirect mode of attack is better than all direct modes of attack; there are truths which it is necessary to envelop or wrap up.

Grandest poetic passages are good not from the direct but indirect meanings—an essence, a suggestion, an indirection, leading off into the immortal mysteries—only to be taken at free removes, as we sometimes look for stars at night, not by gazing directly toward them, but off one side.
All works shall illustrate the divine law of indirections, the curious way we write what we think, yet very faintly. The faintest indication is the indication of the best and then becomes the clearest indication. Human thought, poetry, or melody, must leave dim escapes and outlets, taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them.

Poetic style, when address’d to the soul, is less definite form, outline, sculpture,
And becomes vista, music, half-tints, and even less than half-tints,
To be perceived with the same perception that enjoys music, flowers, and the beauty of men and women.

Common teachers or critics are always asking, What does it mean?
Symphony of fine musician, or sunset, or sea-waves rolling up the beach—What do they mean?
Undoubtedly in the most subtle-elusive sense they mean something,
As love does, and religion does, and the best poem,
But who shall fathom and define those meanings?
Maybe I do not know all my own meanings.

There is something that comes to one now and perpetually,
It is not what is printed or preached or discussed,
It eludes discussion and print,
It is not to be put in a book, it is not in this book,
You may read in many languages, yet read nothing about it.
At its best, poetic lore is like what may be heard of conversation in the dusk, from speakers far or hid,
Of which we get only a few broken murmurs,
What is not gather’d is far more—perhaps the main thing.

It is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything—the life of it everything.
Analogy, comparison, indirection, suggestions are perhaps all that is possible,
Hints of meanings, with powerful indications, yet loose, fluid-like—
In them the development good,
In them all themes, hints, possibilities.

So “Leaves of Grass” does not teach anything absolutely. Something definite and certain—something you can rest on for good, and no more beyond—must not be looked for in the book. It is to keep clear of judgments, lessons, school-ways; its lesson or impetus or urge is not direct, but at second or third or even fourth removes or indirections.
It teaches more by edging up, hinting, coming near, than by any definite statement, never having the sense of something finished and fixed. I round or finish little, if anything, and could not, consistently with my scheme. It is to be a world, with all the mystery of that, all its movement, all its life, always suggesting something beyond.

I am the one who indicates, and the one who provokes and tantalizes,
It is my pleasure to elude you and provoke you for deliberate purposes of my own,
Distinct purposes curiously veiled.

I have in view an effect which I clearly feel, but cannot as clearly define,
I don’t know that I can set this out in a way to have it understood,
It must be comprehended, if at all, intuitively—must be felt, visioned—
A book separate, not link’d with the rest, nor felt by the intellect.
This strange song (often offensive to the intellect) shall pass by the intellect,
Effect upon the reader not as much intellectual as moral,
To be felt, absorbed by the soul,
To swim the sea, the air, with joy with you, O soul of man—
You ye untold latencies will thrill to every page.

Neither can “Leaves of Grass” ever be judged by the intellect. The ordinary critic likely sees not the only valuable part of these mystic leaves, namely, not what they state, but what they infer—and makes up a very fine criticism, not out of the soul, to which these poems altogether appeal, and by which only they can be interpreted, but out of the intellect, to which Walt Whitman has not addressed one single word in the whole course of his writings.

Neither can “Leaves of Grass” suffice to be read merely once or so, for amusement;
It wants a broad space to turn in, like a big ship.
This strange song is to be dwelt upon, returned to, again and again,
Needs study, and more than one perusal, to give up its meaning and confer pleasure,
(First rate poems never immediately gratify,) 
In frequent cases those who liked the book least at first will take it closest to their hearts upon a second or third perusal.

Arouse, 0 friend! for of suggestiveness I bring you what you much need yet always have,
It is for you whoever you are,
It is no farther from you than your hearing and sight are from you,
It is hinted by nearest, commonest, readiest,
It is not them, though it is ever provoked by them—
What is there ready and near you now?

Those silent old suggestions!
Can you, perusing them, and never understanding them, yet dwell upon them with profit and joy?
Then try these chants,
Hear the loud echoes of my songs there,
Read the hints come at last.

NEXT:  THE POET AND HIS CRITICS

The texts in this anthology should NOT be cited as direct quotations from Whitman. If you want to quote from this site for something you are writing or posting, please read this first (click here).