#Patroling Barnegat

Out in the shadows there milk-white combs careering,
On beachy slush and sand spirts of snow fierce slanting, Where through the murk the easterly death-wind breasting, Through cutting swirl and spray watchful and firm advancing, (That in the distance! is that a wreck? is the red signal flaring?) Slush and sand of the beach tireless till daylight wending, Steadily, slowly, through hoarse roar never remitting, Along the midnight edge by those milk-white combs careering, A group of dim, weird forms, struggling, the night confronting, That savage trinity warily watching. Leaving/ Going
a feeling or ambition to articulate and faithfully express in…poetic form…my own physical, emotional, moral, intellectual and aesthetic personality…
During the Civil War (1861 - 1865) he volunteered to work in a hospital amongst the wounded
Waves
Someone, presumably the poet, is walking alone The poem is set on a beach on a along the beach through stormy, wintry night driving snow, looking out to sea across the wild Wild, wild the storm, and the sea high running waves. Steady the roar of the gale, with incessant undertone muttering, Shouts of demoniac laughter fitfully piercing and pealing, Waves, air, midnight, their savagest trinity lashing, Out in the shadows there milk-white combs careering, On beachy slush and sand spirts of snow fierce slanting, Where through the murk the easterly death-wind breasting, Through cutting swirl and spray watchful and firm advancing, (That in the distance! is that a wreck? is the red signal flaring?) Slush and sand of the beach tireless till daylight wending, Steadily, slowly, through hoarse roar never remitting, Along the midnight edge by those milk-white combs careering, A group of dim, weird forms, struggling, the night confronting, That savage trinity warily watching. Through the dark, snow and spray he is not quite sure what he sees - possibly a shipwreck, and a distress signal - then what seems to be a group of walkers, braving the storm.
PatrolingBarnegat
byWaltWhitman
SlidethreecontainsalinktoBBCBitesizevideoread ingofthepoem
Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman lived from 1819 to 1892. He worked as a printer, teacher and property speculator He wrote the poem in 1880 whilst living near Barnegat (now called Ocean County)
Patrolling Barnegat Wild, wild the storm, and the sea high running Steady the roar of the gale, with incessant undertone muttering, Shouts of demoniac laughter fitfully piercing and pealing, Waves, air, midnight, their savagest trinity lashing, Three: This is also links to the ‘Holy Trinity’
Patroling Barnegat
• Themes • Personal reflection • Natural power Vs Man • Storms • • • • • • • • •d-stopping Vivid imagery Religious imagery Anthropomorphism Alliteration Assonance Sibilance