‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ can be interpreted as Walt Whitman’s spiritual guide to reading his poetry — specifically his famous collection ‘Leaves of Grass.’ Contained in the section titled ‘Calamus, ‘ the poem presents itself as a forewarning to readers. Although one encountered, if read chronologically, deep enough into the book to make any retreat a less than satisfactory prospect.
Yet that’s exactly what Whitman, through his speaker, urges: go back now before you’re entangled in this mess of worldview-shattering contradictions full of illusory meaning. But the urgency with which they plea with you to halt is matched only by their passion in describing what a journey towards finding truth in Whitman’s verse might entail. Through his compelling imagery of nature and physical intimacy, the poet entwines the search for meaning in art and life with certain Transcendental truths.
Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand Walt WhitmanWhoever you are holding me now in hand,Without one thing all will be useless,I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,I am not what you supposed, but far different.Who is he that would become my follower?Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?The way is suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive,You would have to give up all else, I alone would expect to be your sole and exclusive standard,Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,The whole past theory of your life and all conformity to the lives around you would have to be abandon’d,Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further, let go your hand from my shoulders,Put me down and depart on your way.Or else by stealth in some wood for trial,Or back of a rock in the open air,(For in any roof’d room of a house I emerge not, nor in company,And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,)But just possibly with you on a high hill, first watching lest any person for miles around approach unawares,Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea or some quiet island,Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,With the comrade’s long-dwelling kiss or the new husband’s kiss,For I am the new husband and I am the comrade.Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your hip,Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;For thus merely touching you is enough, is best,And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.But these leaves conning you con at peril,For these leaves and me you will not understand,They will elude you at first and still more afterward, I will certainly elude you,Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!Already you see I have escaped from you.For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise me,Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) prove victorious,Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil, perhaps more,For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not hit, that which I hinted at;Therefore release me and depart on your way.
Summary
‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ by Walt Whitman sees the poet speaking directly to those that would attempt to read and understand his poetry.
‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ proceeds divided into two voices expressed by the speaker: one is benign discouragement, and the other is impassioned motivation. Throughout, the speaker attempts to dissuade the reader from beginning a journey into Whitman’s poetry, describing it as an arduous path with no guarantees of success. From there, the speaker lists all the consequences of continuing any attempt to grasp at meaning in his poems.
Doing so would require nothing short of a complete reinvention or at least the capacity for holding drastic paradoxes in their mind. While also embracing the poem’s conflation of physical intimacy with the act of knowing. The speaker also offers some advice for how best to experience Whitman’s poetry: preferring the solitude of nature over the lifelessness of libraries.
Structure and Form
‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ is written in the prosaic free verse that characterizes many of the poems contained in ‘Leaves of Grass.’ Its flowing verses are made all the more breathless by Whitman’s use of commas to catalog the vivid images he manifests. Guided by a swiftly earnest and coy voice, the poem’s cadence keeps time with each stanza’s respective moods.
Literary Devices
‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ contains a variety of literary devices. Whitman employs metonymy throughout: “For these leaves and me you will not understand” (28). There’s also tactile imagery: “holding me now in hand” (1); “let go your hand from my shoulders” (11). Visual imagery: “by stealth in some wood” (13); “back of a rock in the open air” (14). Kinesthetic imagery: “thrusting me beneath your clothing” (22); “throbs of your heart” (23).
There are also plenty of examples of metaphors: “sign himself a candidate for my affections?” (6); “in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead” (16); “For I am the new husband and I am the comrade” (21). As well as religious diction with the use of words like “follower” (5) and “novitiate” (9).
Detailed Analysis
Stanza One
Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.
The first stanza of ‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ offers a word of caution to the reader that would attempt to engage with Whitman’s poetry. The first line plays on the metonymy the poet utilizes throughout ‘Leaves of Grass’ to represent himself and create some compelling imagery. When the speaker declares: “Whoever you are holding me now in hand” (1), the “me” can be interpreted as the poem itself personified.
The purpose of this first quatrain is to offer “fair warning” (3) to the reader before plunging any further into the poem. Explaining that whatever they expect to find will not be “what you supposed, but far different” (4). But they also reference an ambiguous “one thing” (2) that without which the reader will flounder and fail in trying to decipher any meaning or connection to Whitman’s poem.
Stanza Two
Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?
The second stanza is a short couplet composed of two rhetorical questions that catalyze self-reflection in the reader. The first sees the speaker asking for the identity of the person that would “become my follower?” (5)
Here Whitman’s choice of diction likens those that would seek to read and understand his poetry to religious disciples. While the second question strengthens the image of prospective followers, asking: “Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?” (6) Much like the first stanza, the speaker here appears somewhat doubtful in tone about the prospective reader.
Stanza Three
The way is suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive,
You would have to give up all else, I alone would expect to be your sole and exclusive standard,
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life and all conformity to the lives around you would have to be abandon’d,
Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further, let go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down and depart on your way.
The third stanza of ‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ presents some of the expectations and consequences of the reader maintaining their grip on Whitman/the poem. Doing so would lead down a path the speaker describes as “suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive” (7). It would also require the reader to “give up all else” (8) and endure a period of “novitiate” — diction that again conjures up images of religious acolytes and initiates — that is both “long and exhausting” (9). On top of that, they’d have to abandon their “whole past theory of life and all conformity to the lives around you” (10).
The speaker’s intentionally discouraging tone becomes far more apparent in this stanza. “Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further” (11), they plea robustly. But the purpose of this dissuasion is to weed out those who would misinterpret Whitman and miss entirely the meaning hidden within his poetry. And this stanza clues the reader into one of the requirements: one must be willing to abolish every notion about who they are and the world around them in order to engage honestly with the poem.
Stanza Four
Or else by stealth in some wood for trial,
Or back of a rock in the open air,
(For in any roof’d room of a house I emerge not, nor in company,
And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,)
But just possibly with you on a high hill, first watching lest any person for miles around approach unawares,
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea or some quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,
With the comrade’s long-dwelling kiss or the new husband’s kiss,
For I am the new husband and I am the comrade.
In stanza four, the speaker offers another clue about how to properly experience Whitman’s poetry. Taking the shape of this ephemeral spirit, the speaker describes some of the locations within which the reader might encounter them: “By stealth in some wood” (13); behind a “rock in the open air” (14); “on a high hill” (17); “sailing at sea” (18). The speaker also makes a point to assert that the reader will never find them in any “roof’d room of a house…nor in company” (15). Attempting to engage with it while shut away inside somewhere like a library would leave them “as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead” (16). In other words, only by catching ahold of Whitman’s poetic spirit while ensconced in nature will one ever come close to understanding it.
The last three lines underscore the profound sensuality that serves as a source of connection between Whitman/the speaker with that, of the reader. The speaker takes physical form once again, describing their meeting with the reader out in nature as a kiss: put your lips onto mine I permit you” (19), they allow. The next line highlights both the romantic — “the new husband’s kiss” — and brotherly love — “the comrade’s long-dwelling kiss” (20) — that Whitman/the speaker will come to embody for the reader.
Stanza Five
Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;
For thus merely touching you is enough, is best,
And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.
Continuing the sensual imagery that ended the previous stanza, the speaker becomes further entangled with the reader. As stanza five elaborates on the prominent currents of homoerotic love that course through ‘Calamus’ (the section within ‘Leaves of Grass’ that ‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’) and Whitman’s poetry in general. The suggestive ambiguity of its opening piece of kinesthetic imagery — “thrusting me beneath your clothing” (22) — continues that crescendo of passion. It’s no longer clear if the reader is simply engaging with the poet through just their words or their body.
Questions about the poet’s queerness are complicated by his period’s lack of serious terminology and understanding with which to help such people identify themselves. Yet even if they had, it’s entirely possible, Whitman would’ve abstained from any sort of classification in favor of representation that was decidedly more fluid. What’s essential to grasp is that knowing Whitman’s poetry is indiscernible from physical intimacy. To him, both are considered highly spiritual and sensuous acts. “For thus merely touching you is enough, is best” (26) the speaker asserts, echoing the tactile imagery that began the poem and the essentialism of physical touch.
Stanza Six
But these leaves conning you con at peril,
For these leaves and me you will not understand,
They will elude you at first and still more afterward, I will certainly elude you,
Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!
Already you see I have escaped from you.
The sixth stanza of ‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ sees the speaker revert back to their dissuading tone. Promising the reader that these leaves (i.e. poems) “and me you will not understand” (28). Both will “elude you at first and still more afterward” (29). This stanza reiterates the vivaciously transient meaning that the reader searches for in Whitman’s poetry, which itself is a reflection of life’s often contradictory multitudes and fleeting dynamism. And just when the reader might think they’ve established a firm grip on some meaning or truth — “behold!” (30) he shouts — looking again he has already “escaped from you” (31).
Stanza Seven
For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise me,
Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) prove victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil, perhaps more,
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not hit, that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me and depart on your way.
The final stanza of ‘Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand’ offers further clarity as Whitman/the speaker via negation. First, they affirm that they didn’t write “this book” (i.e. ‘Leaves of Grass’) for the purpose of the words therein, and because of that, simply reading it will not aid you in acquiring “it” (i.e., meaning). Returning to the notion of attracting followers, they insist that admiration from those who would “vauntingly praise me” (34) does not indicate they “know” (34) him. Instead, they restate that only “a very few” (35) will find themselves receivers of his love.
What keeps Whitman’s exclusivity from being egotistical or pretentious is his utter lack of contempt for anyone who might attempt such a plunge into his writing. Instead, there’s just a lucid understanding that he and his writing will certainly be misinterpreted. Something poignantly voiced in his recognition that his poems will not “do good only, they will do just as much evil, perhaps more” (36). If anyone understood not being understood, it was Whitman. Despite his placating to desert such an undertaking, the passion with which he espouses is goading to keep going.
FAQs
The poem’s theme centers on the ideal way to experience and understand Whitman’s poetry. Framed by a warning to the reader that such an undertaking is both perilous and uncertain, the poem reveals only by immersing yourself in nature/life and embracing sensual intimacy can one even begin to comprehend them. The speaker instills this sentiment that poetry is spiritually and carnally tangible.
Written in his highly personal first-person style, the poem’s speaker can be safely assumed to be Whitman himself. The poem unfolds as a kind of warning and guide to reading those contained in his collection ‘Leaves of Grass.’ Speaking directly to the reader, he underlines prominent motifs and themes found therein.
Although slightly ambiguous, one interpretation might focus on embracing the poem’s paradoxical juxtaposition of a variety of images and concepts. A prominent one is this literal and metaphorical grip the reader has on the poem and Whitman’s poetic spirit. Throughout, he encourages the reader to let go — which on the surface appears as discouragement — but actually serves as an urge to remain steadfast. This is evidenced by the speaker’s assertion that only by abandoning all preconceived ideas will they be able to understand the poem. A firm hold will do nothing to extract meaning from Whitman anymore than reading his poetry cooped up inside will. The “hinted at” thing then is to be inherently flexible and open to such experience.
Whitman makes a direct reference to ‘Leaves of Grass’ and the poems therein when they refer to the “leaves conning you.” The poet uses this floral imagery to represent not just the pieces of their poetry but also to emphasize the multitudes that exist within people and the world.
Similar Poems
If you enjoyed this poem by Walt Whitman, be sure to check out a few more of his works below:
- ‘I Sing the Body Electric’ – this poem also uses the poet’s evocative imagery of the body to celebrate it.
- ‘On the Beach at Night Alone’ – this poem embodies the poet’s love and passion for all of life.
- ‘When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer’ – this poem reveals the beauty of nature found in studying (or listening to those who study) it.
