Great Regulars: Armed with a star guide torn from the back

of a newspaper, I spent an hour patiently identifying each constellation. Soon I could point at Ursa Minor, Pegasus, Cassiopeia's Chair, and Gemini. I could pick out Venus and Mars, even Saturn. The night sky, which had always seemed like a spread of random dots, suddenly snapped into sense and wonder.

So I'm in two minds about Whitman's poem, in which he contrasts the "learn'd astronomer" and the common man, hands in pockets, who despite his ignorance, can look up at the stars in reverence. I can appreciate the distinction Whitman draws between dusty, book-bound learning and personal feeling, yet I can't help but feel the two are not quite so opposed.

from Christopher Nield: The Epoch Times: The Antidote--Classic Poetry for Modern Life: A Reading of 'When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer' by Walt Whitman

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