This compost whitman. Walt Whitmans This Compost, Sample of Essays 2022-11-04
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In Chapter 6 of "The Great Gatsby," F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic novel about the decadence and excess of the Roaring Twenties, the main character, Jay Gatsby, throws a lavish party at his mansion in the hopes of winning back his former love, Daisy Buchanan. However, the party ultimately serves as a backdrop for the revelation of several key plot points and the unraveling of Gatsby's grand facade.
At the beginning of the chapter, Nick Carraway, the narrator, is invited to the party by Gatsby himself. Upon arriving, he is amazed by the opulence and extravagance of the event, with hundreds of guests milling about, music and dancing, and endless supplies of food and drink. However, it quickly becomes clear that Gatsby's main motivation for throwing the party is to impress Daisy, who he has not seen in five years.
As the party wears on, Nick witnesses a confrontation between Gatsby and Tom Buchanan, Daisy's husband. Tom accuses Gatsby of being a bootlegger and a criminal, and Gatsby retaliates by revealing that he has proof that Tom is cheating on Daisy with another woman. This confrontation serves as the catalyst for the unraveling of Gatsby's grand facade, as it is revealed that he has been lying about his past and his true identity.
In the aftermath of the party, Gatsby's true background is revealed to be somewhat murky and shrouded in mystery. It is revealed that he made his fortune through illegal activities, and that he has been living a life of lies in order to win back Daisy's affections. This revelation ultimately leads to Gatsby's tragic end, as he is killed by Tom's mistress' husband, who mistakenly believes that Gatsby was the one who killed Tom's mistress.
Overall, Chapter 6 of "The Great Gatsby" serves as a turning point in the novel, as it marks the beginning of the end for Gatsby and the unraveling of his grand facade. It is a chapter full of tension and drama, as the characters' true identities and motivations are revealed, leading to a series of tragic events that shape the course of the novel.
This Compost (Walt Whitman)
Or do they do both, and, if so, how? LeMaster and Donald D. Those drunkards and gluttons of so many generations? Is not every continent work'd over and over with sour dead? Learn more and register at After registering, detailed driving directions will be emailed to you. . The world is their oyster. What mysteries abide in this elemental design! That the winds are really not infectious, That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues, That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited themselves in it, That all is clean forever and forever. That the winds are really not infectious! We're meeting at Harvest Preserve, an easy drive just off of ScottBoulevard in Iowa City.
The grass of spring covers the prairies, The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden, The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward, The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches, The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves, The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree, The he-birds carol mornings and evenings, while the she-birds sit on their nests, The young of poultry break through the hatch'd eggs, The new-born of animals appear—the calf is dropt from the cow, the colt from the mare, Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato's dark green leaves, Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk—the lilacs bloom in the door-yards; The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strata of sour dead. Rich in detailed visual images, "This Compost" is also one of Whitman's finest nature poems. Elizabeth Haslam, for the rotating banner photos except the books at top of this page. A further difficulty Whitman encountered was his lack of education. He describes his love of the woods, pastures, and the sea; however, the very first line introduces the fact that he is forced to leave these woods because something has startled him. What could this possibly mean? Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions, It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions of diseas'd corpses, It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor, It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops, It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last. Make your lives extraordinary.
By looking at his use of the words spring and resurrection, one can see the authors implication of annual rebirth and renewal. Ontop of that, I like the strong point of the divine perfection that Walt depict the earth as attaining. The fifth and final stanza puts the previously implied meaning into concrete words. New York: New York UP, 1980. Are they not continually putting distemper'd corpses within you? Full of hormones, just like you.
Out of the decay he beholds an awful beauty. She uses the idea of winter to represent darkness, the comparison of the weight of a choice the heft of Cathedral tunes. Whatever the cause may be, he knows that he has entered a death-haunted landscape—which is no different than any place on earth. The second stanza is composed of five lines, each a rhetorical question centered on the poems main inquiry. . That the cool drink from the well tastes so good! Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? The rest of the third stanza is a list of the varying spawns of nature starting with the simplest of plants and gradually moving towards complex organisms such as colts and calves. .
How can the ground not sicken of men? Who Was Walt Whitman? Perhaps every mite was once form'd part of a sick person - yet behold! The fourth stanza also shows Whitmans use of sexuality to convey his ideas. This poem is really nothing more than the thought process of the narrator as he asks himself questions and searches for the answers to those questions. Now I am terrified at the Earth! This is the compost of billions of premature corpses, Perhaps every mite has once formed part of a sick person, Yet Behold! O how can it be that the ground does not sicken? For all his much-chronicled love and embrace of all things human and fleshly, Whitman is wrestling here with their shadow side: the illnesses, aging and decay that eventually fell every human body and make of them nothing more than stench-filled food for worms. How can you be alive, you growths of spring? I do not see any of it upon you today—or per- haps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my plough—I will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat. This poem is written almost exactly like a person would think. Saint Paul's sermon on the conquest of death and the rebirth of the soul 1 Corinthians 15 speaks of the sown wheat resurrected in a divine body and of "the resurrection of the dead.
But why does he see a compost? Is not every continent worked over and over with sour dead? After the war, Whitman incessantly revised Leaves of Grass, working to absorb the poetry of division and loss into what had before the war been a book emphasizing unity and endless expansion. That the cool drink from the well tastes so good, That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy, That the fruits of the apple-orchard, and of the orange-orchard—that melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me, That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease, Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once a catching disease. I would challenge the idea that this is entirely Hegelian in structure, There seems to be only one rise and fall of crisis and resolution. The speaker appears terrified at the thought of such an ignominious destiny for all humanity and at the earth's apparent indifference toward mankind. With each item on his list, the narrator describes the miracles of life he sees before him but more importantly the annual rebirth of life itself.
I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceiv'd; I will run a furrow with my plough—I will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up underneath; I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat. Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat? Answer this question in the Comment box below or on. How can you furnish health, you blood of herbs, roots, orchards, grain? Spring and summer are mentioned a few times, perhaps relating to the idea of rebirth and regeneration. How can you be alive, you growths of spring? Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat? The meaning of the poem is not so obvious that it is known before even beginning, and the meaning is not so difficult that it can only be concluded well after finishing the poem. However, when he does run a furrow with his plow, he doesnt discover piles of dead corpses and mounds of waste; instead he sees a compost, the very title of the poem. The poem makes brilliant use of the pathetic fallacy.
Decay and Renewal: An Analysis of Walt Whitman’s “This Compost”
The narrator says, Perhaps every mite has once formd part of a sick person; yet behold! The narrator says, Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk, the lilacs bloom in the dooryards. The Evolution of Walt Whitman: The Creation of a Poet. Eis easily taken at face value. And I am thus reminded of the centrality of intention, because times like this seem to require a willful reset and refocus, purposefully reminding myself that 99. Its series of parallel, anaphoric lines generally forming short catalogues have an almost breathless quality. Join us at this outdoor Whitman-inspired writing workshop! Where have you disposed of their carcasses? That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease! Instead, the poet shows us that the sins of the world are the diseased corpses and the infused fetor, and which the Earth, like God, takes back into itself, purifying and making sweet, strong, new and beautiful. Invincible, just like you feel.
. Listen, you hear it? That the cool drink from the well tastes so good, That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy, That the fruits of the apple-orchard, and of the orange-orchard— that melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me, That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease, Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once a catching disease. He concludes that some how within the earth all that was once decayed and sickly is rearranged to forever sprout new life of purity and cleanliness. How can the pristine vegetative earth even accept and absorb such a rotting mass of protein? O how can it be that the ground does not sicken? Conjuring images of all those nice organic carrot peels and lemon rinds we lovingly transport to our backyard compost bins, there to mix with leaves and the miraculously multiplying worms to eventually create a teeming dark pile of life-giving soil. As a result, he assumed affectations of roughness in excess of what was genuine. Now I am terrified at the earth! It seems that nature has a rejuvenating quality that takes even the darkest concepts, like death, and makes them beautiful. The question clearly troubles him.
