The Final(s) Battle

Don't judge the cheesy title, folks, it was the best I could come up with! This week is our final battle of the semester, guys. Finals week. So many tests, papers, and projects it's overwhelming, but keep up the hard work and don't give up now!

We've come a long way since the beginning of the semester! From the very beginning of American Literature, through American independence, and now to a new birth of freedom for American -- the Civil War. We're leaving off in 1865 (but if you want to find out what America has in store for it next, you can take English 223 which picks up where we left off!) but there are many more wars and battles in America's history. If you're interested you can go back to the spring months of my blog and get a glimpse of some of those.

It has been a joy to take this class with you all but thanks for making it a fun last English course for me, I have enjoyed our discussions and BB IM chats so much. I hope you all do well on your finals and all of the finals you have left in your career at Ivy Tech (one more for me!)!

One parting poem -- the great Emily Dickinson's "Success is Counted Sweetest."

Success is counted sweetest 
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory 
As he defeated -- dying--
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear. 

May we never forget the value of success either when we are succeeding or in our failures. 
Best of luck to you all!

Beat! Beat! Drums!

 

Beat! Beat! Drums!

By Walt Whitman

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!

Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,

Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,

Into the school where the scholar is studying,

Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride,

Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,

So fierce you whirr and pound you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!

Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets;

Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,

No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—would they continue?

Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?

Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?

Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!

Make no parley—stop for no expostulation,

Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer,

Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,

Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,

Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,

So strong you thump O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.

 

I feel as if this poem by Walt Whitman was written by war itself. It's giving the order to invade and 

 completely turn everyone's every day lives upside down indiscriminately. The church congregation, 

the school children, the newlyweds, the farmers, the sleepers, the mothers, the children, no one is 

spared from the havoc of war. Whitman wrote this in 1861, the same year the Civil War started and in the poem he seems to describe the escalating events that were occurring in the war at that time. 

War affects everyone, especially when it's brother against brother in a horrific Civil War, and 

Whitman made that clear in this poem. I really enjoyed looking through Walt Whitman's work these 

past two weeks. This was one of my favorite of his just for the fact that it's like reading an account of 

what things were like for people during the War Between the States. It's like he captured history as it 

happened.