Crossing Cistern Student- A Response to Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”

Crossing Cistern Student

Response to “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” by Walt Whitman

College of Charleston Cistern Yard/Randolph hall

1

Patterned bricks below me! I see you face to face!

Live oaks above– sun there half an hour high– I see you also face to face. 

Classes of young men and young women dressed in the usual outfits, how curious you are to me!

Over the Cistern the thousands and thousands that cross, returning to Randolph hall, are more curious to me

than you might suppose.

2

And you that shall cross from edge to edge years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, 

than you might suppose.

The imperfection of me and all my things at all hours of the day, 

The simple, skinny, instagram profile, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the

profile,

The similitudes of the past and those of the future, 

The likes hung like trophies on my smallest posts, photos taken on the walk in the street and the passage over the cistern,

The semesters rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away,

The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them, 

The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the Cistern yard and cross from edge to edge, 

Others will watch the run of the semesters, 

Others will see Porters lodge to the south, and the Ravenel bridge to the north

and beyond, 

Others will see the islands large and small; 

Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high, 

A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them, 

Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the freshman and the falling-out of the seniors.

3

It avails not, time nor place– distance avails not, 

I am with you, you men and women of a class, or ever so many classes hence, 

Just as you feel when you look on Randolph hall and the live oaks, so I felt. 

Just as any of you is one of a living class, I was one of a class, 

Just as you are refreh’d by the gladness of the buildings and the spanish moss, I was refresh’d

Just as you stand and lean in the graduation line, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood yet was hurried. 

Just as you look on the numberless steeples of churches and the thick-stemmed trucks of trees, I look’d. 

I too many and many a time cross’d through College way, 

Watched the Ninth month monarchs, saw them high in the air floating with stuttering wings, oscillating their bodies, 

Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in strong shadow, 

Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south, 

Saw the reflection of the September sky in the fountains, 

Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, 

Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sunlit water, 

Look’d on the shops and cafes southward and south-westward, 

Look’d on the rain as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet, 

Look’d toward the battery to notice the vessels arriving, 

Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, 

Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the cruise ships at anchor, 

The tourists at work in the shopping or out astride the bars, 

The long Carta, the swinging motion of the stoplights, the slender serpentine women, 

The large and small doggos in motion, the professors in their offices, 

The white wake left by the passage of the graduates, the quick tremulous whirl of their class rings, 

The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset, 

The scallop-edged architecture in the twilight, the red solo cups, the frolicsome freshman and sophomores, 

The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the carriage storehouses by the docks, 

On the river the shadowy palms, the big container ships closely flank’d on each side by the forts, the leisure-boat, the sports car, 

On the neighboring shore the fires from the beaches burning high and glaringly into the night, 

Casting their flicker of black contrasted with wild red and yellow light over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets. 

4 

These and all else were to me the same as they are to you, 

I loved well this city, loved well the stately and rapid river, 

The men and women I saw were all near to me, 

Others the same—others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them, 

(The time will come, though I stop here this year and nextt.) 

5 

What is it then between us? 

What is the count of the semesters or hundreds of years between us? 

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not, 

I too lived, Charleston was mine, 

I too walk’d the bricks of campus, and bathed in the beaches around it, 

I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me, 

In the day among groups of students sometimes they came upon me, 

In my walks home from the library late at night or as I studied Shakespeare they came upon me, 

I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution, 

I too had receiv’d identity by my student body, 

That I was I knew was of my student body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my student body. 

6 

It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, 

The dark threw its patches down upon me also, 

The best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious, 

My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? 

Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil, 

I am she who knew what it was to be evil, 

I too knitted the old knot of contrariety, 

Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d, 

Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak, 

Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant, 

The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me, 

The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting, 

Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting, 

Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest, 

Was call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men and women as they saw me approaching or passing, 

Felt their arms on my neck as I stood for photos, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat, 

Saw many I loved in the street or classroom or class assembly, yet never told them a word, 

Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping, 

Play’d the part that still looks back on the actor or actress, 

The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like, 

Or as small as we like, or both great and small. 

7 

Closer yet I approach you, 

What thought you have of me now, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance, 

I consider’d long and seriously of you before you were a student here. 

Who was to know what college I would choose? 

Who knows but I am enjoying this? 

Who knows, for all the distance, but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me?

8 

Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than steeple-hemm’d Charleston? 

River and sunset and scallop-edg’d cement of the architecture? 

The monarch butterflies oscillating their bodies, the cistern columns in the twilight, and the inspiring professors? 

What gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach? 

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face? 

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? 

We understand then do we not? 

What I promis’d without mentioning it, have you not accepted? 

What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish is accomplish’d, is it not? 

9 

Flow on, student body! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide! 

Frolic on, freshman and sophomore and junior! 

Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me! 

Cross the cistern edge to edge, countless classes of graduates! 

Stand up, tall steeples of Chucktown! stand up, beautiful columns of Randolph hall! 

Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers! 

Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution! 

Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the classrooms or streets or house party! 

Sound out, voices of young men and women! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name! 

Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress! 

Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one makes it! 

Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you; 

Be firm, cross over the cistern, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current; 

Fly on, butterfiles! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air; 

Receive the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you! 

Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the sunlit fountains! 

Come on, ships from the battery! pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops, cruise ships! 

Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower’d at sunset! 

Burn high your fires, beach bonfires! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses! 

Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are, 

You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul, 

About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung out divinest aromas, 

Thrive, cities—bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers, 

Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual, 

Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting. 

You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful students, 

We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward, 

Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us, 

We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us, 

We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also, 

You furnish your parts toward eternity, 

Great or small, you furnish your parts toward The College.

In this CofC-themed remix of Walt Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” I changed the setting of the poem to fit the College of Charleston, but left many other lines as Walt Whitman originally wrote  them. My strategy was to emphasize the themes of identity and place within the original poem, while giving it a unique twist that may be more affective within the campus community. It was my idea that while I wrote and changed certain words and phrases in the poem, Whitman was writing with me, as a sort of side-by-side partnership. In order to make my version of the poem readable and enjoyable for college-aged students, I also included a few references to drinking culture and other aspects of campus life that I felt would add to the overall effect. My main goal for this creative response to Whitman’s crossing Brooklyn ferry was to use the emotions that I have, as a senior here at the college, to create a bridge between me and Mr. Whitman. I wanted to use his words in combination with my perspective on the college of Charleston, and how it feels to be a part of the class of 2020, and more importantly what it feels like to be a College of Charleston student.