Poetry Thursday

Except from SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD

"Listen! I will be honest with you;
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes;
These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you;
What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.

Allons! after the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong to them!
They too are on the road! they are the swift and majestic men; they are the greatest women.
Over that which hinder’d them—over that which retarded—passing impediments large or small,
Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful virtues,
Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habitués of many distant countries, habitués of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years—the curious years, each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth—Journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.
by Walt Whitman

I just came back from a very productive wedding trip to Spain. My wedding planners gave me a list of wedding readings. Song of the Open Road was one of them, but someone evidently took various stanzas from the poem and put it together. What they created was very beautiful, but when I went to find it online for my Poetry Thursday submission I realized that the new creation was quite different from the original. Above I've put sections 11 & 12 from the original (unedited).

Anyway, aside from distributing misleading poetry, the wedding planners were lovely and I feel like I'm in such great hands. They had my parents and I running around Granada and in 48 hours I managed to visit the wedding site (absolutely gorgeous with dramatic views of the Alhambra), all six hotels we've reserved for our guests, two rehearsal dinner sites, day-after wedding brunch site, the florist, the photographer, the DJ, and the hair and make up person for my trials. We were incredibly productive. And then I went to my parent's town and took care of the wedding shoes, the wedding favors, the garter belt, and the wedding jewelry. Hurray! The wedding feels so done and it's going to be spectacularly gorgeous. I simply can't wait. :)