What does the title "Leaves of Grass" actually mean?

[u/moxiesmomma]

[u/Reader6079]

"Leaves" is another word for pages in a book.

"Grass" was a slang term for poor writing, I think maybe kind of what we might call "filler" material today.

So, I guess Whitman is kind of making a joke, kind of "pages of poor writing".

[u/indigogoinggone → u/Reader6079]

I have no idea if this is true but the idea is lovely

[u/[deleted]]

First off, even though having first read Leaves of Grass some 35 years ago and having read it multiple times I’ve never stopped to actually consider the meaning of the title, having just thought it poetry itself. Nor have I looked into what Whitman himself might said about it. If Whitman said nothing himself to give indication then anyones suggestions are just that, suggestions…so here’s mine now that you forced a thought I never had:

Grass covers the earth and as he calls them leaves then the earth itself is the tree. In essence it is this tree, a tree of life with multiple branches, on which we all live and have our existence. Just a suggestion with no basis in anything other than my own rumination.

[u/RagePoop]

"Leaves" refer to pages of a book

"Grass" appears in the Psalms, and in the Book of Isaiah to reference flesh, life, and the duration of one's life

As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. -Psalms 103:15

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever. -Isaiah 40:8

The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. -Isaiah 40:6

Taken together, and viewed through the lens of "Song of Myself" I think the title is Whitman's way of imploring us to see how all the pages of life can be found in poetry, because life is poetry, and our lifetimes are the one true poem.

[u/Rustin_Ahmadi]

Hey there

I do not know!

But reading your question Made me think of something

Rumi, uses the idea, the image Of the reed, that is severed, from the reed bed To show the state of Man (Human beings, I mean)

He says that we, are far from our home Just as the reed pipe is, from the reed bed

Hence the very moanful sound of the instrument (It yearns to unite again With its source, and beloved)

I thought that since mr Whitman is so lovely and such a lover of people And so democratic in nature (I think he'd like this description) One way of looking at the title Is that we ourselves are leaves of grass (people)

Joyful and dancing, green, and happy

In the wind

Together Tied to the ground

May they both rest in peace

[u/MagneticMoth]

I am an expert on Walt 🙂There are 2 theories from scholars. 1) Walt printed newspapers and the leftover scrap paper was called “grass”. He was very good at printing so definitely a possibility. 2) He lived during the cholera pandemic. Many people thought that grass and beards purified the air and protected you from disease. Cholera is actually spread by water, which we know now.

Funny enough, a person that hated Walt’s poetry because he wrote about his love for other men actually said he liked the name because “the book made good kindling for my fireplace”.

[u/originofallpoems]

In Whitman's day, people commonly referred to "grass" to signify something very common and very humble--usually in a decidedly panthesistic way. For instance, Whitman's greatest hero, the great Quaker theologian Elias Hicks, testified, "Every blade of grass, every leaf that falls, and every wing that flits the air, all receive alike, whether animal or vegetable, his superintending care." Similarly, the man who *actually created* the novel poetic form which Whitman is usually said to have created, Martin Farquhar Tupper, wrote, " A reason for each blade of grass, that reareth its small spire." A search in Google Books will turn up more. The previous comment that "Leaves [was] another word for pages in a book," is absolutely true as well. In addition, Whitman's central phallic symbol, "Calamus," was a kind of grass.

[u/Zigsynx]

Breaking bad

[u/ryanNorthC]

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,

The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.