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| 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.
