Whitman is too clever to slip into a succinct formula. If he
could have adequately said his say in a single proverb, it is
to be presumed he would not have put himself to the trouble
of writing several volumes. It was his programme to state as
much as he could of the world with all its contradictions,
and leave the upshot with God who planned it. What he has
made of the world and the world's meanings is to be found at
large in his poems. These altogether give his answers to the
problems of belief and conduct; in many ways righteous and
high-spirited, in some ways loose and contradictory. And yet
there are two passages from the preface to the LEAVES OF
GRASS which do pretty well condense his teaching on all
essential points, and yet preserve a measure of his spirit.


"This is what you shall do," he says in the one, "love the
earth, and sun, and animals, despise riches, give alms to
every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy,
devote your income and labour to others, hate tyrants, argue
not concerning God, have patience and indulgence towards the
people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to
any man or number of men; go freely with powerful uneducated
persons, and with the young, and mothers of families, read
these leaves (his own works) in the open air every season of
every year of your life; re-examine all you have been told at
school or church, or in any book, and dismiss whatever
insults your own soul."

"The prudence of the greatest poet," he adds in the other -
and the greatest poet is, of course, himself - "knows that