A child said, what is the grass?

  A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe
of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow
zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the
same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and
from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,
And here you are the mother's laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old
mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men
and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and
children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait
at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
luckier.




I liked this poem because it shows how sometimes when children ask us questions like what is the grass or why is the sky blue we don't always have the best or answer, or even really know why.

Whoever you are, Holding me now in Hand.

WHOEVER you are, holding me now in hand,

Without one thing, all will be useless,

I give you fair warning, before you attempt me          further,

I am not what you supposed, but far different.

Who is he that would become my follower?

Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?

The way is suspicious—the result uncertain, perhaps          destructive;

You would have to give up all else—I alone would ex-          pect to be your God, sole and exclusive,

Your novitiate would even then be long and exhaust-          ing,

The whole past theory of your life, and all conformity          to the lives around you, would have to be aban-          doned;

Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself          any further—Let go your hand from my          shoulders,

Put me down, and depart on your way.

Or else, by stealth, in some wood, for trial,

Or back of a rock, in the open air,

(For in any roof'd room of a house I emerge not—nor          in company,

 
 

And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn,          or dead,)

But just possibly with you on a high hill—first watch-          ing lest any person, for miles around, ap-          proach unawares,

Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of          the sea, or some quiet island,

Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,

With the comrade's long-dwelling kiss, or the new          husband's kiss,

For I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.

Or, if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,

Where I may feel the throbs of your heart, or rest          upon your hip,

Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;

For thus, merely touching you, is enough—is best,

And thus, touching you, would I silently sleep and be          carried eternally.

But these leaves conning, you con at peril,

For these leaves, and me, you will not understand,

They will elude you at first, and still more afterward          —I will certainly elude you,

Even while you should think you had unquestionably          caught me, behold!

Already you see I have escaped from you.

For it is not for what I have put into it that I have          written this book,

Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,

Nor do those know me best who admire me, and          vauntingly praise me,

Nor will the candidates for my love, (unless at most a          very few,) prove victorious,

Nor will my poems do good only—they will do just as          much evil, perhaps more;

For all is useless without that which you may guess at          many times and not hit—that which I hinted at;

Therefore release me, and depart on your way.

Walt Whitman

Who was he? 
Walt Whitman was a famous poet, essayist and journalist throughout the 1800's

What type of literature did he write?
Walt Whitman wrote poetry

Is he a realist or a romanticist? Why?
Walt Whitman was a romanticist because he wrote about love & finding yourself.

New Sub-Cellular Structure Discovered

I thought this article was very interesting. It showed how important cell division & is in every day lives. It showed how  knowing about this may even help us to find the cure to cancer! More research should be put towards know about this so that we can find the cure &, I'm sure, many other good things will come out for knowing about cell division.

If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always gotten.

What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

Have you ever had that thing in life that you'd never want to relive? That you spent countless hours stressing & cry over? Well, no matter how bad it seemed at the time you made it through it. You're alive & you survived. Even though at the time it seemed like the end of the world, you learned something from that experience. It made you a stronger & wiser person & it's experiences like that who help make us who we are. Next time you're dealing with something in life that you think that you can't handle, just remember to keep you're head up, stay strong, & take from the situation what you can.  

Sophmore year;

I expected it to be just like my freshman year, but it's so much different! My classes & teachers so so different & a lot more is expected out of us. I'm taking mostly honors classes, but a lot of non-honors are mixed in with us so it's not like being in honors has really given me extra work to do. I'm expecting this year to have a lot more work than last year. I expecting to actually have to study if I want to pass a test because the test this year are a little harder than lasts years. On the plus side I'm doing a lot better in Spanish than I did last year! I really want to not only do well in my school & athletics this year but also have fun with my friends & in & out of school activities!