Here’s my YouTube video clip of where I found Whitman in Camden. I attempted to load this video all day and I kept getting error messages. It should be fine now (well, hopefully). The sound quality is so horrible that my “S’s” all sound like I have a lisp…sorry.
findingwhitman
Christine’s Video in Camden reading for 12/10
Jennifer Found Whitman
I found Whitman in Front of Court House
Here I am in front of the Court House. I chose this place because Whitman always stood up for equality.
This is from Songs of Myself…Enjoy!
Jennifer Found Whitman
I found Whitman in Front of Court House
Here I am in front of the Court House. I chose this place because Whitman always stood up for equality.
This is from Songs of Myself…Enjoy!
Where Emily found Whitman
The video is cut off because the battery died. Ironically, my animal finding whitman partner, opted to leave at almost exactly the same time. I chose to keep that video, rather than reshoot it with a fresh battery, because Simon’s exit is very Whitmanesque and goes perfectly with the excerpt from “Song of Myself” I was reading.
I apologize about the quality of the picture and sound.
Where Emily found Whitman
The video is cut off because the battery died. Ironically, my animal finding whitman partner, opted to leave at almost exactly the same time. I chose to keep that video, rather than reshoot it with a fresh battery, because Simon’s exit is very Whitmanesque and goes perfectly with the excerpt from “Song of Myself” I was reading.
I apologize about the quality of the picture and sound.
Where Adam L Found Whitman
A VOICE FROM DEATH.
(The Johnstown, Penn., cataclysm, May 31, 1889.)
| A VOICE from Death, solemn and strange, in all his sweep and power, |
| With sudden, indescribable blow—towns drown’d—humanity by thousands slain, |
| The vaunted work of thrift, goods, dwellings, forge, street, iron bridge, |
| Dash’d pell-mell by the blow—yet usher’d life continuing on, |
| (Amid the rest, amid the rushing, whirling, wild debris, |
| A suffering woman saved—a baby safely born!) |
| Although I come and unannounc’d, in horror and in pang, |
| In pouring flood and fire, and wholesale elemental crash, (this voice so solemn, strange,) |
| I too a minister of Deity. |
| Yea, Death, we bow our faces, veil our eyes to thee, |
| We mourn the old, the young untimely drawn to thee, |
| The fair, the strong, the good, the capable, |
| The household wreck’d, the husband and the wife, the engulf’d forger in his forge, |
| The corpses in the whelming waters and the mud, |
| The gather’d thousands to their funeral mounds, and thousands never found or gather’d. |
| Then after burying, mourning the dead, |
| (Faithful to them found or unfound, forgetting not, bearing the past, here new musing,) |
| A day—a passing moment or an hour—America itself bends low, |
| Silent, resign’d, submissive. |
| War, death, cataclysm like this, America, |
| Take deep to thy proud prosperous heart. |
| E’en as I chant, lo! out of death, and out of ooze and slime, |
| The blossoms rapidly blooming, sympathy, help, love, |
| From West and East, from South and North and over sea, |
| Its hot-spurr’d hearts and hands humanity to human aid moves on; |
| And from within a thought and lesson yet. |
| Thou ever-darting Globe! through Space and Air! |
| Thou waters that encompass us! |
| Thou that in all the life and death of us, in action or in sleep! |
| Thou laws invisible that permeate them and all, |
| Thou that in all, and over all, and through and under all, incessant! |
| Thou! thou! the vital, universal, giant force resistless, sleepless, calm, |
| Holding Humanity as in thy open hand, as some ephemeral toy, |
| How ill to e’er forget thee! |
| For I too have forgotten, |
| (Wrapt in these little potencies of progress, politics, culture, wealth, inventions, civilization,) |
| Have lost my recognition of your silent ever-swaying power, ye mighty, elemental throes, |
| In which and upon which we float, and every one of us is buoy’d. |
Where Adam L Found Whitman
A VOICE FROM DEATH.
(The Johnstown, Penn., cataclysm, May 31, 1889.)
| A VOICE from Death, solemn and strange, in all his sweep and power, |
| With sudden, indescribable blow—towns drown’d—humanity by thousands slain, |
| The vaunted work of thrift, goods, dwellings, forge, street, iron bridge, |
| Dash’d pell-mell by the blow—yet usher’d life continuing on, |
| (Amid the rest, amid the rushing, whirling, wild debris, |
| A suffering woman saved—a baby safely born!) |
| Although I come and unannounc’d, in horror and in pang, |
| In pouring flood and fire, and wholesale elemental crash, (this voice so solemn, strange,) |
| I too a minister of Deity. |
| Yea, Death, we bow our faces, veil our eyes to thee, |
| We mourn the old, the young untimely drawn to thee, |
| The fair, the strong, the good, the capable, |
| The household wreck’d, the husband and the wife, the engulf’d forger in his forge, |
| The corpses in the whelming waters and the mud, |
| The gather’d thousands to their funeral mounds, and thousands never found or gather’d. |
| Then after burying, mourning the dead, |
| (Faithful to them found or unfound, forgetting not, bearing the past, here new musing,) |
| A day—a passing moment or an hour—America itself bends low, |
| Silent, resign’d, submissive. |
| War, death, cataclysm like this, America, |
| Take deep to thy proud prosperous heart. |
| E’en as I chant, lo! out of death, and out of ooze and slime, |
| The blossoms rapidly blooming, sympathy, help, love, |
| From West and East, from South and North and over sea, |
| Its hot-spurr’d hearts and hands humanity to human aid moves on; |
| And from within a thought and lesson yet. |
| Thou ever-darting Globe! through Space and Air! |
| Thou waters that encompass us! |
| Thou that in all the life and death of us, in action or in sleep! |
| Thou laws invisible that permeate them and all, |
| Thou that in all, and over all, and through and under all, incessant! |
| Thou! thou! the vital, universal, giant force resistless, sleepless, calm, |
| Holding Humanity as in thy open hand, as some ephemeral toy, |
| How ill to e’er forget thee! |
| For I too have forgotten, |
| (Wrapt in these little potencies of progress, politics, culture, wealth, inventions, civilization,) |
| Have lost my recognition of your silent ever-swaying power, ye mighty, elemental throes, |
| In which and upon which we float, and every one of us is buoy’d. |
Where Adam L Found Whitman
A VOICE FROM DEATH.
(The Johnstown, Penn., cataclysm, May 31, 1889.)
| A VOICE from Death, solemn and strange, in all his sweep and power, |
| With sudden, indescribable blow—towns drown’d—humanity by thousands slain, |
| The vaunted work of thrift, goods, dwellings, forge, street, iron bridge, |
| Dash’d pell-mell by the blow—yet usher’d life continuing on, |
| (Amid the rest, amid the rushing, whirling, wild debris, |
| A suffering woman saved—a baby safely born!) |
| Although I come and unannounc’d, in horror and in pang, |
| In pouring flood and fire, and wholesale elemental crash, (this voice so solemn, strange,) |
| I too a minister of Deity. |
| Yea, Death, we bow our faces, veil our eyes to thee, |
| We mourn the old, the young untimely drawn to thee, |
| The fair, the strong, the good, the capable, |
| The household wreck’d, the husband and the wife, the engulf’d forger in his forge, |
| The corpses in the whelming waters and the mud, |
| The gather’d thousands to their funeral mounds, and thousands never found or gather’d. |
| Then after burying, mourning the dead, |
| (Faithful to them found or unfound, forgetting not, bearing the past, here new musing,) |
| A day—a passing moment or an hour—America itself bends low, |
| Silent, resign’d, submissive. |
| War, death, cataclysm like this, America, |
| Take deep to thy proud prosperous heart. |
| E’en as I chant, lo! out of death, and out of ooze and slime, |
| The blossoms rapidly blooming, sympathy, help, love, |
| From West and East, from South and North and over sea, |
| Its hot-spurr’d hearts and hands humanity to human aid moves on; |
| And from within a thought and lesson yet. |
| Thou ever-darting Globe! through Space and Air! |
| Thou waters that encompass us! |
| Thou that in all the life and death of us, in action or in sleep! |
| Thou laws invisible that permeate them and all, |
| Thou that in all, and over all, and through and under all, incessant! |
| Thou! thou! the vital, universal, giant force resistless, sleepless, calm, |
| Holding Humanity as in thy open hand, as some ephemeral toy, |
| How ill to e’er forget thee! |
| For I too have forgotten, |
| (Wrapt in these little potencies of progress, politics, culture, wealth, inventions, civilization,) |
| Have lost my recognition of your silent ever-swaying power, ye mighty, elemental throes, |
| In which and upon which we float, and every one of us is buoy’d. |
Where Adam B. found Whitman
Pardon the poor audio quality…
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand
singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or
at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of
the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows,
robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.