Heard the Learn\'d Astronomer \"When I Heard

¶ … Heard the Learn'd Astronomer

"When I Heard a Learn'd Astronomer" by Walt Whitman is a lyrical poem consisting of just eight lines, one single stanza, and was first published in Leaves of Grass in 1855 (Whitman 340). The poem begins with the same line as the title of the poem. Whitman is known for repeating his title as the first line in his poetry as it is a way to give extra emphasis to the line (and title). "When I heard a learn'd astronomer" as the title and first line leaves the reader without any sort of doubt about what the narrator is doing: he is listening to someone of intelligence and importance. However, it can also be suggested that Whitman is using the clipped version of learned (i.e., 'learn'd) sarcastically (i.e., he is "learned" -- at least that is what people think).

There is also the fact in the first line that Whitman chooses to rhyme the words 'heard' and 'learn'd' in the middle of the line as opposed to doing it at the end of disparate lines. Some may argue that the use of two words rhyming in the middle of a line is a bit awkward or uncomfortable to speak, and perhaps it is, however, the technique was probably utilized by Whitman in order to accentuate the difference between the person listening and the person speak -- in the fact that they are two completely different individuals: one is just a listener and one is a learn'd man. This may also be the reason that Whitman chose to use the spelling of learned as 'learn'd' -- as he may be showing the difference in intelligence through this different spelling.

The second line, "When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me" is an interesting line as well because of how long it is in comparison with the first line. The narrator is listing all of the things that the astronomer is showing, however, he says that these proofs and figures are 'ranged' (i.e., arranged) in columns before him. Columns are vertical supports, but the long line of the poem is anything but vertical. Whitman was contrasting the word 'columns' with the length of the poem.

In the third line, "When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them," Whitman is showing us all of the mathematic effort that goes into astronomy. The line before we were told about the proofs and the figures, but now we are hit with 'charts,' diagrams,' and the words 'add,' 'divide,' and 'measure.' Whitman did this as a way of separating himself from the astronomer. The astronomer is, in a sense, speaking another language, which keeps the audience at a distance. Though the astronomer is talking about the stars and the skies, something that people see every day, the way in which the astronomer experiences the stars and the skies is completely different from the way in which normal people experience them.

"When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room" is the fourth line of the poem and here Whitman is once again contrasting his own state, his own being, with that of the astronomer. He states between commas that he is sitting while he listens to the astronomer. The astronomer, on the other hand, is not sitting, but lecturing to all the people in the lecture room -- to much applause. Whitman also emphasizes that they are in a lecture-room, which seems to go against the idea of astronomy -- to be sitting in a sterile room while talking about the stars doesn't allow one to truly contemplate them. The use of lists and the growing complexity of the sentences are emphasized by Whitman to set the reader up for the second half of the poem.

The fifth line, "How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick," states that the narrator is puzzled by why he feels ill; however, the reader has been given lists and lines that have grown in detail and complexity to give us the hint as to why the narrator is feeling six. Since it follows the line where the narrator states that he, sitting, listens to this astronomer in a lecture-room with great applause, the reader can infer that being stifled in this room while listening to all the talk of math, which means nothing to the narrator, is what is making him sick as well.

The sixth line, "Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself," tells us that the narrator was feeling sick until he got up and went outside by himself; he had to get away from all of the mathematical talk that was not making sense to him. These two lines, five and six, are important because while the first four lines of the establish the scene and the situation of the poem, this second half, beginning with lines five and six, tell the reader how the narrator is responding to his situation.

The seventh line, "In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time," presents us with a completely different environment compared to the lecture-room. The reader gets a feel for how the narrator feels when he is outside where he can look up whenever he wants and see the real deal. Whitman calls the night-air 'mystical' to give the reader the feeling that astronomy is not something that can be taught in a stuffy lecture-room. The universe is something much more complex than diagrams and charts, mathematics in general. In contrast to having to be seated in the lecture-room, he is able to 'glide' (as noted in line six) outside and be at one with nature. The use of the word 'glide' in line six gives the light, airy feel of a person dancing -- again, this is in contrast to the narrator 'sitting' in the lecture-room.

The eighth and final line of the poem says, "Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars." Again, Whitman chooses to clip the word 'Look'd' perhaps as a way of being more colloquial. He looks up 'in perfect silence.' He doesn't need someone out there to explain the stars to him. The reader gets the feeling that the narrator can, simply by being silent, can understand more about the stars than the astronomer could ever tell him. We are left with the image of a man gliding, dancing, under the stars, choosing to look up at them whenever he feels like it. In the lecture-room, there were no stars to look at, only diagrams and charts. Everything was left to calculated detail, which makes the narrator ill. In order to be at one with the universe, the narrator needs to be out in the universe.

The last line of the poem is the shortest line in the poem and this can be seen as Whitman's way of also telling us that things need not be so complicated in the world. In fact, a simple approach to looking at the stars is, according to Whitman, the best approach. It is only through simplicity that we can get an understanding of something so much larger than ourselves.