So Long! Walt Whitman's Poetry of Death

is only his corruptible body that is mortal, and therefore expendable; it is
his body that must be abandoned to facilitate the setting forth of his
spirit. “Unless the individual survives the mutation of matter,” said Whit-
man’s erudite friend Daniel G. Brinton, “the universe is pointless.”^79 This
is Whitman’s view, too. “I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,” his
persona exclaims joyously. “I effuse my ®esh in eddies and drift in lacy
jags.” One can almost envision the famous Whitman beard being trans-
formed into a lacy cloud that moves across the heavens to remind us of
his abiding presence. Like the fertility god Osiris, whom the ancient
Egyptians considered the king of the dead,^80 he bestows his spirit-self on
the earth, the grass, the human heart, and the universe. The poet bestows
himself throughout “Song of Myself,” Lewis Hyde observes, on anyone
who will have him, as bridegroom, lover, friend, or mentor. It is not sur-
prising that even in death he makes a gift of himself to everyone as a
bestower of health, well-being, and inspiration.^81

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,

If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,

But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,

And ¤lter and ¤bre your blood

Failing to fetch me at ¤rst keep encouraged,

Missing me one place search another,

I stop some where waiting for you.

The persona, who throughout “Song of Myself ” is charged with translat-
ing “the converging objects of the universe,” appears to be undergoing a
major transformation: the would-be translator of life’s mysteries takes his
place in the cosmos to become one of the translated. In the spiritualist
sense of that word, he has entered the realm of immortality, where he
remains forever “untranslatable.” Rather than disappear, however, he be-
comes diffused into a sort of spirit-matter that permeates air, soil, water,
cloud, and all living things. This diffusion is a brilliant trope for the per-
petual changes he (or his soul) will undergo. But in whatever state he may
be, he (or his essence) will continue to ¤lter and ¤ber your blood and

“Triumphal Drums for the Dead” / 75