To Think of Time
1
TO think of time—of all that retrospection!
To think of to-day, and the ages continued henceforward!
Have you guess’d you yourself would not continue?
Have you dreaded these earth-beetles?
Have you fear’d the future would be nothing to you?
Is to-day nothing? Is the beginningless past nothing?
If the future is nothing, they are just as surely nothing.
To think that the sun rose in the east! that men and women were flexible, real, alive!
that
everything was alive!
To think that you and I did not see, feel, think, nor bear our part!
To think that we are now here, and bear our part!
2
Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without an accouchement!
Not a day passes—not a minute or second, without a corpse!
The dull nights go over, and the dull days also,
The soreness of lying so much in bed goes over,
The physician, after long putting off, gives the silent and terrible look for an answer,
The children come hurried and weeping, and the brothers and sisters are sent for,
Medicines stand unused on the shelf—(the camphor-smell has long pervaded the rooms,)
The faithful hand of the living does not desert the hand of the dying,
The twitching lips press lightly on the forehead of the dying,
The breath ceases, and the pulse of the heart ceases,
The corpse stretches on the bed, and the living look upon it,
It is palpable as the living are palpable.
The living look upon the corpse with their eye-sight,
But without eye-sight lingers a different living, and looks curiously on the corpse.
3
To think the thought of Death, merged in the thought of materials!
To think that the rivers will flow, and the snow fall, and fruits ripen, and act upon
others as
upon us now—yet not act upon us!
To think of all these wonders of city and country, and others taking great interest in
them—and we taking no interest in them!
To think how eager we are in building our houses!
To think others shall be just as eager, and we quite indifferent!
(I see one building the house that serves him a few years, or seventy or eighty years at
most,
I see one building the house that serves him longer than that.)
Slow-moving and black lines creep over the whole earth—they never cease—they are
the
burial lines,
He that was President was buried, and he that is now President shall surely be buried.
4
A reminiscence of the vulgar fate,
A frequent sample of the life and death of workmen,
Each after his kind:
Cold dash of waves at the ferry-wharf—posh and ice in the river, half-frozen mud in
the
streets, a gray, discouraged sky overhead, the short, last daylight of Twelfth-month,
A hearse and stages—other vehicles give place—the funeral of an old Broadway
stage-driver, the cortege mostly drivers.
Steady the trot to the cemetery, duly rattles the death-bell, the gate is pass’d, the
new-dug grave is halted at, the living alight, the hearse uncloses,
The coffin is pass’d out, lower’d and settled, the whip is laid on the coffin,
the
earth is swiftly shovel’d in,
The mound above is flatted with the spades—silence,
A minute—no one moves or speaks—it is done,
He is decently put away—is there anything more?
He was a good fellow, free-mouth’d, quick-temper’d, not bad-looking, able to
take his
own part, witty, sensitive to a slight, ready with life or death for a friend, fond of
women,
gambled, ate hearty, drank hearty, had known what it was to be flush, grew low-spirited
toward
the last, sicken’d, was help’d by a contribution, died, aged forty-one
years—and
that was his funeral.
Thumb extended, finger uplifted, apron, cape, gloves, strap, wet-weather clothes, whip
carefully chosen, boss, spotter, starter, hostler, somebody loafing on you, you loafing
on
somebody, headway, man before and man behind, good day’s work, bad day’s work,
pet
stock, mean stock, first out, last out, turning-in at night;
To think that these are so much and so nigh to other drivers—and he there takes no
interest in them!
5
The markets, the government, the working-man’s wages—to think what account they
are
through our nights and days!
To think that other working-men will make just as great account of them—yet we make
little
or no account!
The vulgar and the refined—what you call sin, and what you call goodness—to
think how
wide a difference!
To think the difference will still continue to others, yet we lie beyond the difference.
To think how much pleasure there is!
Have you pleasure from looking at the sky? have you pleasure from poems?
Do you enjoy yourself in the city? or engaged in business? or planning a nomination and
election? or with your wife and family?
Or with your mother and sisters? or in womanly housework? or the beautiful maternal cares?
—These also flow onward to others—you and I flow onward,
But in due time, you and I shall take less interest in them.
Your farm, profits, crops,—to think how engross’d you are!
To think there will still be farms, profits, crops—yet for you, of what avail?
6
What will be, will be well—for what is, is well,
To take interest is well, and not to take interest shall be well.
The sky continues beautiful,
The pleasure of men with women shall never be sated, nor the pleasure of women with men,
nor
the pleasure from poems,
The domestic joys, the daily housework or business, the building of houses—these are
not
phantasms—they have weight, form, location;
Farms, profits, crops, markets, wages, government, are none of them phantasms,
The difference between sin and goodness is no delusion,
The earth is not an echo—man and his life, and all the things of his life, are
well-consider’d.
You are not thrown to the winds—you gather certainly and safely around yourself;
Yourself! Yourself! Yourself, forever and ever!
7
It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your mother and father—it is to
identify
you;
It is not that you should be undecided, but that you should be decided;
Something long preparing and formless is arrived and form’d in you,
You are henceforth secure, whatever comes or goes.
The threads that were spun are gather’d, the weft crosses the warp, the pattern is
systematic.
The preparations have every one been justified,
The orchestra have sufficiently tuned their instruments—the baton has given the
signal.
The guest that was coming—he waited long, for reasons—he is now housed,
He is one of those who are beautiful and happy—he is one of those that to look upon
and be
with is enough.
The law of the past cannot be eluded,
The law of the present and future cannot be eluded,
The law of the living cannot be eluded—it is eternal,
The law of promotion and transformation cannot be eluded,
The law of heroes and good-doers cannot be eluded,
The law of drunkards, informers, mean persons—not one iota thereof can be eluded.
8
Slow moving and black lines go ceaselessly over the earth,
Northerner goes carried, and Southerner goes carried, and they on the Atlantic side, and
they
on the Pacific, and they between, and all through the Mississippi country, and all over
the
earth.
The great masters and kosmos are well as they go—the heroes and good-doers are well,
The known leaders and inventors, and the rich owners and pious and distinguish’d, may
be
well,
But there is more account than that—there is strict account of all.
The interminable hordes of the ignorant and wicked are not nothing,
The barbarians of Africa and Asia are not nothing,
The common people of Europe are not nothing—the American aborigines are not nothing,
The infected in the immigrant hospital are not nothing—the murderer or mean person is
not
nothing,
The perpetual successions of shallow people are not nothing as they go,
The lowest prostitute is not nothing—the mocker of religion is not nothing as he
goes.
9
Of and in all these things,
I have dream’d that we are not to be changed so much, nor the law of us changed,
I have dream’d that heroes and good-doers shall be under the present and past law,
And that murderers, drunkards, liars, shall be under the present and past law,
For I have dream’d that the law they are under now is enough.
If otherwise, all came but to ashes of dung,
If maggots and rats ended us, then Alarum! for we are betray’d!
Then indeed suspicion of death.
Do you suspect death? If I were to suspect death, I should die now,
Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited toward annihilation?
10
Pleasantly and well-suited I walk,
Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good,
The whole universe indicates that it is good,
The past and the present indicate that it is good.
How beautiful and perfect are the animals!
How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it!
What is called good is perfect, and what is called bad is just as perfect,
The vegetables and minerals are all perfect, and the imponderable fluids are perfect;
Slowly and surely they have pass’d on to this, and slowly and surely they yet pass
on.
11
I swear I think now that everything without exception has an eternal Soul!
The trees have, rooted in the ground! the weeds of the sea have! the animals!
I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!
That the exquisite scheme is for it, and the nebulous float is for it, and the cohering is
for
it;
And all preparation is for it! and identity is for it! and life and materials are
altogether
for it
Literary Analysis
This literary analysis was generated with AI and may contain interpretive differences. Provide your analysis in the comments section.
Summary
Whitman begins by staring straight into the vastness of time, pressing the mind toward a paradox: the present moment feels immediate and bodily, yet it is already surrounded by a limitless past and future. The poem's early questions challenge fear itself, especially the fear that personal existence will simply vanish. Instead of treating mortality as an abstraction, Whitman keeps returning to concrete realities-birth, illness, work, burial, pleasure, politics, domestic life-so that time becomes something lived in flesh and public life rather than something merely counted.
The poem moves outward and inward at once. It ranges across presidents and laborers, the refined and the vulgar, the healthy and the dying, insisting that all are subject to the same law of change and continuation. Yet the progression is not despairing; it steadily builds toward affirmation. Whitman imagines the self as gathered, not dissolved, and finally declares a faith in eternal soul and immortality. The central tension lies in how the poem faces death without softening it, while still claiming that death does not cancel identity, value, or meaning.
Theme
- Mortality and continuity - The poem confronts death directly, but it does not stop there; it insists that human life participates in a larger pattern that continues beyond individual endings.
- The equality of lives - Whitman repeatedly places presidents, workers, migrants, criminals, and the poor under the same temporal law, refusing to reserve significance for the socially elevated.
- Body and soul - The poem grounds spiritual ideas in physical experience, suggesting that flesh, labor, birth, and death are part of the same profound order.
- Acceptance of change - Instead of resisting time's passage, the poem argues that transformation is natural and necessary, and that what comes and goes still belongs to a greater wholeness.
- The value of ordinary life - Markets, wages, domestic care, poems, pleasure, and business are treated as real and consequential, not trivial distractions from deeper truth.
- Individual identity - The poem insists that the self is gathered and defined rather than scattered, presenting personhood as something secured within time rather than erased by it.
Literary Devices
- Rhetorical questions - Whitman uses repeated questions to pull the reader into active reflection, especially on fear, selfhood, and the meaning of the future.
- Anaphora - The repetition of phrases such as 'To think' and 'Not a day passes' creates momentum and emphasizes the poem's meditative insistence.
- Cataloging - Long lists of occupations, social types, and everyday realities widen the poem's scope and make its vision inclusive and democratic.
- Free verse - The flexible, open lineation mirrors the poem's expansive thought process and allows ideas to accumulate without strict formal containment.
- Symbolic repetition of burial imagery - Recurring references to corpses, graves, and burial lines give death a material presence while also making it part of a universal pattern.
- Paradox - The poem joins opposites such as life and death, presence and absence, change and permanence, showing that Whitman's vision depends on holding contradictions together.
- Direct address - The poem speaks to 'you,' drawing the reader into the argument and making the meditation feel personal rather than abstract.
Symbolism
- Earth-beetles - This unsettling image suggests the physical decay of the body and the earthbound fate that fear imagines for human beings.
- The corpse - The body after death becomes a symbol of mortality's undeniable fact, but also of the poem's effort to locate meaning beyond mere cessation.
- Burial lines - The spreading lines of graves symbolize the universal reach of death across places, classes, and histories.
- The house - Building a house stands for human effort, ambition, and the temporary structures people create during a finite life.
- The orchestra tuning - The tuned instruments symbolize preparation, order, and the sense that life has been arranged toward a completed pattern.
- Yourself - The repeated emphasis on the self symbolizes identity as something gathered, protected, and enduring through time.
Tone
Whitman's tone is grave, wondering, and finally resolute, as if he is arguing himself and the reader through a difficult truth. The emotional atmosphere shifts from unease at mortality to a broad, almost buoyant confidence in the order of existence. Even when the poem dwells on corpses, graves, and the indifferent sweep of time, the mood is not bleak for long; it becomes expansive, steady, and strangely reassuring.
Historical Context
Whitman wrote in the context of nineteenth-century American expansion, industrial growth, democratic reform, and intense debate over the place of the individual in a rapidly changing nation. His poetry often rejects conventional stanza forms in favor of a large, inclusive voice that can hold labor, politics, sexuality, religion, and death within one vision of reality. This approach is characteristic of American Romanticism, especially its search for spiritual meaning in ordinary life and in the natural world.
The poem also reflects a period in which ideas of science, materialism, religion, and personal immortality were all in active tension. Whitman's response is not doctrinal; he transforms those pressures into a democratic philosophy of being, where every life participates in a vast continuity. The result is typical of his larger project: to treat the self as both deeply individual and inseparable from the common human fate.