"Come Up from the Fields Father"

This is a sad poem about loss. It amazes me that Whitman can write about something over 100 years ago and yet it can apply to the present. This poem is about a letter coming from a son who has been in the war. It's that moment in every parent's life when they fill with dread of the loss of their loved one. 

Whitman begins by setting the scene. He captures the old-time farm scene with grace and dignity. He says, "Above all, lo, the sky so calm, so transparent after the rain and with wondrous clouds / Below too, all calm, all vital and beautiful, and the farm prospers well." This is like the calm before the storm. As the poem moves forward, mother and father come together to read the letter and find that it's not in their son's handwriting. 

"O a strange hand writes for our dear son, O stricken mother's soul / All swims before her eyes, flashes with black, she catches the main words only / Sentences broken, gunshot wound in the breast, cavalry skirmish, taken to hospital / At present low, but will soon be better."

I find it interesting the way Whitman draws attention to the letter by italicizing the words. It is easy to hear the change in speaker when he uses the italics as a literary device. As the reader, you also get a sense of the mother only connecting with certain words on the page. The poem goes on to tell us the son has passed away, and the final verse is about the mother's grief. I cannot even begin to imagine how a parent feels when losing a child, but I think Whitman did a fantastic job in capturing grief and how it continues long after a life is lost. This poem reminds me of Whitman's honesty to detail. He wanted people to understand the price that is paid for war. He loved America and the ideals that she was born with, but he also understood the ugliness of war, and at least he tried to be honest about it.

As Whitman published many volumes of Leaves of Grass, I think it's fascinating to watch him go through different stages in his life. His legacy really shows his growth and at some point I imagine we will see his decline. I find myself thinking about the grass all too often and it makes me miss home. Sometimes I wonder if Whitman was trying to conjure up memories of home when he titled this book - his legacy.