The World Below the Brine

Actinologia Britannica - Philip Henry Gosse

The World Below the Brine

The world below the brine,

Forests at the bottom of the sea, the branches and leaves,

Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds, the thick tangle, openings, and pink turf,

Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and gold, the play of light through the water,

Dumb swimmers there among the rocks, coral, gluten, grass, rushes, and the aliment of the swimmers,

Sluggish existences grazing there suspended, or slowly crawling close to the bottom,

The sperm-whale at the surface blowing air and spray, or disporting with his flukes,

The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea-leopard, and the sting-ray,

Passions there, wars, pursuits, tribes, sight in those ocean-depths, breathing that thick-breathing air, as so many do,

The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed by beings like us who walk this sphere,

The change onward from ours to that of beings who walk other spheres.

Walt Whitman 

“Forests at the bottom of the sea…” Whitman takes us to that mysterious underwater world in an instant. I read this, and I’m right there. He has tremendous skill in conveying variety and expanse, a sense of wonder for the world he lives in, and the worlds that border on it. And he is struck by the similarities between these worlds – forests, gardens, wars, tribes – all things we recognize and relate to. I appreciate this sense of similitude in Whitman. He is interested both in the alienness of things and in their connection to each other. It seems to me that if you bring both those qualities together, you have a better grasp of what it means to be alive, to be a creature amongst other creatures, to live in a world within worlds.