Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools Part 17

=The Immigrant Family=:--Have you ever seen a family that have just arrived in America from a foreign land? Tell where you saw them. How many persons were there? What were they doing? Describe each person, noting especially anything odd or picturesque in looks, dress, or behavior. Were they carrying anything? What expressions did they have on their faces? Did they seem pleased with their new surroundings? Was anyone trying to help them? Could they speak English? If possible, report a few fragments of their conversation. Did you have a chance to find out what they thought of America? Do you know what has become of them, and how they are getting along?

=A Fragment of my Autobiography=:--Did you, as a child, move into a strange town, or make a visit in a place entirely new to you? Tell rather briefly why you went and what preparations were made. Then give an account of your arrival. What was the first thing that impressed you?

What did you do or say? What did the grown people say? Was there anything unusual about the food, or the furniture, or the dress of the people? Go on and relate your experiences, telling any incidents that you remember. Try to make your reader share the bewilderment and excitement you felt. Did anyone laugh at you, or make fun of you, or hurt your feelings? Were you glad or sorry that you had come? Finish your story by telling of your departure from the place, or of your gradually getting used to your new surroundings.

Try to recall some other experiences of your childhood. Write them out quite fully, giving s.p.a.ce to your feelings as well as to the events.

COLLATERAL READINGS

The Promised Land Mary Antin They Who Knock at Our Gates " "

The Lie " "

(Atlantic Monthly, August, 1913) Children of the Tenements Jacob A. Riis The Making of an American " " "

On the Trail of the Immigrant E.A. Steiner Against the Current " " "

The Immigrant Tide " " "

The Man Farthest Down Booker T. Washington Up from Slavery " " "

The Woman who Toils Marie and Mrs. John Van Vorst The Long Day Anonymous Old Homes of New Americans F.E. Clark Autobiography S.S. McClure Autobiography Theodore Roosevelt A Buckeye Boyhood W.H. Venable A Tuscan Childhood Lisa Cipriani An Indian Boyhood Charles Eastman When I Was Young Yoshio Markino When I Was a Boy in j.a.pan Sakae Shioya The Story of my Childhood Clara Barton The Story of my Boyhood and Youth John Muir The Biography of a Prairie Girl Eleanor Gates Autobiography of a Tomboy Jeanette Gilder The One I Knew Best of All Frances Hodgson Burnett The Story of my Life Helen Keller The Story of a Child Pierre Loti A New England Girlhood Lucy Larcom Autobiography Joseph Jefferson Dream Days Kenneth Grahame The Golden Age " "

The Would-be-Goods E. Nesbit In the Morning Glow Roy Rolfe Gilson Chapters from a Life Elizabeth Stuart Phelps-Ward

Mary Antin: Outlook, 102:482, November 2, 1912; 104:473, June 28, 1913 (Portrait). Bookman, 35:419-421, June 1912.

WARBLE FOR LILAC-TIME

WALT WHITMAN

Warble me now for joy of lilac-time (returning in reminiscence), Sort me, O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of earliest summer, Gather the welcome signs (as children with pebbles or stringing sh.e.l.ls), Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds, the elastic air, Bees, b.u.t.terflies, the sparrow with its simple notes, Blue-bird and darting swallow, nor forget the high-hole flashing his golden wings, The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor, Shimmer of waters with fish in them, the cerulean above, All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running, The maple woods, the crisp February days, and the sugar-making, The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted, With musical clear call at sunrise and again at sunset, Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the nest of his mate, The melted snow of March, the willow sending forth its yellow-green sprouts, For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in it and from it?

Thou, soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what; Come, let us lag here no longer, let us be up and away!

O if one could but fly like a bird!

O to escape, to sail forth as in a ship!

To glide with thee, O soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er the waters; Gathering these hints, the preludes, the blue sky, the gra.s.s, the morning drops of dew, The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark-green heart-shaped leaves, Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence, Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere, To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds, A warble for joy of lilac-time, returning in reminiscence.

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY

What is the meaning of "sort me"? Why jumble all these signs of summer together? Does one naturally think in an orderly way when recalling the details of spring or summer? Can you think of any important points that the author has left out? Is _samples_ a poetic word? What is meant by the line "not for themselves alone," etc.? Note the sound-words in the poem: What is their value here? Read the lines slowly to yourself, or have some one read them aloud, and see how many of them suggest little pictures. Note the punctuation: Do you approve? Is this your idea of poetry? What is poetry? Would this be better if it were in the full form of verse? Can you see why the critics have disagreed over Whitman's poetry?

WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER

WALT WHITMAN

When I heard the learn'd astronomer, When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me, When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide and measure them, When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick, Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY

Why did the listener become tired of the lecturer who spoke with much applause? What did he learn from the stars when he was alone out of doors? Does he not think the study of astronomy worth while? What would be his feeling toward other scientific studies? What do you get out of this poem? What do you think of the way in which it is written?

VIGIL STRANGE I KEPT ON THE FIELD ONE NIGHT

WALT WHITMAN

Vigil strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day, One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look I shall never forget, One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the ground, Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle, Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my way, Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body, son of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night-wind, Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battle-field spreading, Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night, But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my chin in my hands, Pa.s.sing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade--not a tear, not a word, Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole, Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death, I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall surely meet again,) Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear'd, My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form, Folded the blanket well, tucked it carefully over head and carefully under feet, And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited, Ending my strange vigil with that, vigil of night and battlefield dim, Vigil for boy of responding kisses (never again on earth responding), Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brighten'd, I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket, And buried him where he fell.

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY

What is a vigil? Was Whitman ever in battle? Does he mean himself speaking? Was the boy really his son? Is the man's calmness a sign that he does not care? Why does he call the vigil "wondrous" and "sweet"?

What does he think about the next life? Read the poem over slowly and thoughtfully to yourself, or aloud to some one: How does it make you feel?

Can you see any reason for calling Whitman a great poet? Has he broadened your idea of what poetry may be? Read, if possible, in John Burroughs's book on Whitman, pages 48-53.

EXERCISES

Re-read the _Warble for Lilac-Time_. Can you write of the signs of fall, in somewhat the same way? Choose the most beautiful and the most important characteristics that you can think of. Try to use color-words and sound-words so that they make your composition vivid and musical.

Compare the _Warble for Lilac-Time_ with the first lines of Chaucer's _Prologue_ to the _Canterbury Tales_. With Lowell's _How Spring Came in New England_.

THEME SUBJECTS

A Walk in the Woods A Spring Day Sugar-Making My Flower Garden The Garden in Lilac Time The Orchard in Spring On a Farm in Early Summer A Walk on a Summer Night Waiting for Morning The Stars Walt Whitman and his Poetry

COLLATERAL READINGS

Poems by Whitman suitable for cla.s.s reading:-- On the Beach at Night Bivouac on a Mountain Side To a Locomotive in Winter A Farm Picture The Runner I Hear It was Charged against Me A Sight in Camp By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame Song of the Broad-Axe A Child said _What is the gra.s.s?_ (from _A Song of Myself_)

The Rolling Earth (Selections from Whitman) W.R. Browne (Ed.) The Life of Walt Whitman H.B. Binns Walt Whitman John Burroughs A Visit to Walt Whitman (Portraits) John Johnston Walt Whitman the Man (Portraits) Thomas Donaldson Walt Whitman G.R. Carpenter Walt Whitman (Portraits) I.H. Platt Whitman Bliss Perry Early May in New England (poem) Percy Mackaye Knee-deep in June J.W. Riley Spring Henry Timrod Spring Song Bliss Carman

ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA

TRANSLATED BY GEORGE HERBERT PALMER