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A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking,
Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were lacking.
Sex contains all, bodies, souls,
Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations,
Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk,
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves, beauties, delights of the earth,
All the governments, judges, gods, follow'd persons of the earth,
These are contain'd in sex as parts of itself and justifications of itself.
Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex,
Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.
Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women,
I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those women that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me,
I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust husband of those women.
They are not one jot less than I am,
They are tann'd in the face by shining suns and blowing winds,
Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,
They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run, strike, retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right—they are calm, clear, well-possess'd of themselves.
I draw you close to me, you women,
I cannot let you go, I would do you good,
I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but for others' sakes,
Envelop'd in you sleep greater heroes and bards,
They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me.
It is I, you women, I make my way,
I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love you,
I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you,
I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for these States, I press with slow rude muscle,
I brace myself effectually, I listen to no entreaties,
I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me.
Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself,
In you I wrap a thousand onward years,
On you I graft the grafts of the best-beloved of me and America,
The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and athletic girls, new artists, musicians, and singers,
The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn,
I shall demand perfect men and women out of my love-spendings,
I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others, as I and you interpenetrate now,
I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them, as I count on the fruits of the gushing showers I give now,
I shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death, immortality, I plant so lovingly now.
SUMMARY AND CRITICAL ANALYSIS
Introduction. A Woman Waits For Me is a poem of about forty lines, which has been specially written by Walt Whitman in accordance with his “sex-programme” as announced by him in his open letter to Emerson. Although one and a quarter centuries have passed since this was composed, yet the astonishing candor and bold frankness exhibited in this poem to discuss sexual relations of a man and a woman offends hundreds of people brought up with great mental discipline in an atmosphere of adequate social restrictions and moral inhibitions.
Summary. The opening lines of the poem A Woman Waits For Me is very suggestive, nay, even aggressively frank:
A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking,Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking or if the moisture of the right man were lackingSex contains all, bodies, souls,Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations,Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk...
And further the poet asserts his opinion:
Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sexWithout shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.
The original name given by the poet to this piece was Poem of Procreation. True to that name the poet lays emphasis on the generation of “sons and daughters fit for these States”, his eagerness was “to grow fierce and athletic girls, new artists, musicians and singers”. In the Smritis or codes of right conduct that constitute the socially relevant section of Hindu sacred literature, it is emphatically stressed that the sexual act is not an impulsive bestial behavior but a sort of YAJNA or holy rite for the perpetuation of the species. The phallus worship or Lord SIVA exemplifies this. Our temple carvings openly depict the sexual act not out of any morbid sensualism or as a mere letting out of pent-up suppressed sensations of the flesh. Procreation is a divine process and there is no shame attached to it. Over-indulgence should be condemned in the same way as over-eating, overdrinking, or anything that goes beyond the natural limit. That Walt Whitman sometimes-nay very often-gives very glaring and graphic pen pictures of the physical acts and also those of man to man unnatural sexual attraction is a different matter. Let those who condemn this aberration do so. What they say is justifiable to some extent.
Critical Analysis. Walt Whitman says in his open letter to Emerson “By silence or obedience the pens of poets, historians biographers and the rest have long connived at the filthy law and books enslaved to it, that which makes the manhood of a man, that sex, womanhood, maternity, desires, lusty animations, organs, etc., are unmentionable and to be ashamed of, to be driven to skulk out of literature with whatever belong to them. This filthy law has to be repealed - it stands in the way of great reforms. Of woman just as much as man there should be infidelism about sex but perfect faith”. The poet is eager to celebrate in his poems the eternal decency of the amativeness of Nature, the motherhood of all. He does not wish to be “a mere bard of fashionable delusion of the inherent nastiness of sex and the feeble and the querulous modesty of deprivation.”
Many readers at the time of the first publication of the poem were offended because the woman waiting was apparently a prostitute. The poet does not mind whether the woman was a prostitute or a chaste lady. He abhorred impassive women. He wanted “those women that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me” He praises these lines -
They are not one jot less than I am,They are tanned in the face by shining suns and blowing winds,Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run,trike, retreat, advance, resist, defend themselvesThey are ultimate in their own right-they areculm, clear, well possessed of themselves.
The poet views women as potential procreators of heroes and bards. There is an egotistic boast when he says -
They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but meIt is I, you women, I make my wayI am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love youI do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you.
The lines that follow are too openly frank to be pleasing to modest ears that get embarrassed on account of the inhibition they have been subjected to for a long period, for generations together. He dwells upon his masculine vigor and vitality and how the women physically react to the sex experience.
Towards the close of the poem the poet expresses the hope that the line will be perpetuated by the succeeding generations. The closing lines have more meaning than what the words convey -
I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them, as I count on the fruits of the gushing showers I give nowI shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death, immortality, I plant so lovingly, now.
In another poem Spontaneous Me the poet expresses his desire “to saturate what shall produce boys to fill my place when I am through”. Our Puranas, Upanishads, Smritis and other sacred literature laud the perpetuation of the human species. The blessing to a newly married bride used to be that she should beget ten sons and the husband shall be her eleventh son!Far removed from the present-day slogan “We two, ours two.”