Half-Empty

I didn't enjoy reading "The Wound-Dresser" or "Beat! Beat! Drums!" nearly as much as I enjoyed reading "Song of Myself." The most likely culprit for this weather change is the shift in subject matter. Whitman's words feel more evocative (at least to me) when he's discussing in ecstatic tones his connection with everything and everyone. These two poems, while they do present a different sort of connection with life and death, don't seem to be possessed with the unbridled passion present in "Song of Myself." Though I don't doubt that Whitman's cries for action in "Beat! Beat! Drum!" are sincere, they lack a certain amount of oomph. "The Wound-dresser" is much more effective in its appeals to emotion and empathy, primarily through its gory depictions of battlefield casualties, but, again, lacks the sort of widespread descriptive power of some of his other works. Ultimately, I think I like it better when Whitman sticks to the brighter side of life. With that said, it is interesting to see an author so transfixed with life examine some of its darker corners.