In
comparing the work of Walt Whitman and Ruben Dario, there is a surface
difference, given the demographics of the writers. However, both choose to
write poems in which the speakers make a declaration of identity. For Whitman,
he names himself as the speaker and lists all of the pleasures he enjoys as the
citizen of America’s democracy. Dario acknowledges the power of the United
States of America, but also asserts the depth of his own part of America,
further south. Thought each poet asserts his identity within a different
geography, both come back to a sense of power and pride in that lifestyle.
In Walt
Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” specifically part 24, he begins with ownership of
the poem and his physical existence, writing “Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of
Manhattan the son,/ Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking, and breeding”
(lns. 1-2). The assertion of himself through the poem and ownership of
sensuality indicate a freedom that is part of an ideal democracy. Whitman then equivocates
“Whoever degrades another degrades me,/ And whatever is done or said returns at
last to me./ […] I give the sign of democracy,/ By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have
their counterpart of/ on the same terms” (7-8, 10-12). The sense of connection
and ownership relate back to the fact that by nature and all being human, we
are connected. Though Whitman himself may enjoy liberties, as a member of the
human race, denigration of others is a direct affront to all. Whitman even
invokes the name of God, which is a cultural belief across groups. While the
idea may be signified by another name or possess a slightly different significance,
this is another element that connects Whitman and Dario.
Ruben
Dario’s work “No.” begins with affirmation of the United States’ “grand and
powerful” status, one so influential that “Whenever it trembles, a profound
shudder/ runs down the enormous backbone of the Andes” (1-3). On a surface
level, the U.S. appears to be an indomitable force, but then the idea of the
Andes being a backbone suggests the power and subtle strength of South America.
While the two are connected and what happens in the U.S. may carry over into
the connected lands, there is still a power and durability, like a backbone.
Dario goes on to compare that the two cultures are different but still equally
powerful; while America was endowed with stars, South America has older jewels
of tradition. The speaker then issues a warning: “Be careful./ Long live Spanish
America!/ A thousand cubs of the Spanish lions are roaming free./ Roosevelt,
you must become, by God’s own will,/ the deadly Rifleman and the dreadful
Hunter/ Before you catch us in your iron claws” (44-5). There is a sense of
pride and vigor similar to Whitman’s declaration, as well as the understanding
that this culture will not cede to the will of others easily. Though Dario says
that Roosevelt must become a hunter because God wills it, he then concludes of
America: “you are lacking on thing: God!” (51). It is then seemingly ironic
when Dario cites the will of God for United States intervention—it appears that
human will is justified falsely to God.
Both
Whitman and Dario speak of the beauty of their lifestyles, but criticize the
imposition of other will or lack of freedom. For Whitman, this is empathized
toward others in that situation; for Dario, it is a personal lack of freedom.
However, Dario is not a victim, his culture is not weak or easily defeated;
while the United States is powerful, there is a community of strength and a
history of endurance that suggests his culture will endure. And that would
please Whitman, who suggests a displeasure for any man forced to be without
freedom and liberty.
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