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"That music always round me": 21st century choral settings of the poetry of Walt Whitman

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"That music always round me": 21st century choral settings of the poetry of Walt Whitman

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“THAT MUSIC ALWAYS ROUND ME”:

21
st
CENTURY CHORAL SETTINGS OF THE POETRY OF WALT WHITMAN

by

Amy Stuart Hunn

A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC THORNTON SCHOOL OF MUSIC
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS
(CHORAL MUSIC)

May 2012

Copyright 2012 Amy Stuart Hunn
ii
Acknowledgments

First, I would like to thank the four composers who agreed to be studied and
interviewed for this project: Robert Maggio, Nico Muhly, Steven Sametz, and John
Muehleisen. They were all incredibly generous with their time and insights; this project
would not have been possible without them. I also must thank the members of my
dissertation committee: Dr. Cristian Grases, Dr. Nick Strimple, and Dr. Adam Knight
Gilbert, for their support and input through this process. Dr. Grases, the chair of my
committee, deserves recognition for his careful proofreading and timely responses to
questions and preliminary drafts. Dr. Gilbert’s meticulous and insightful editing inspired
me to revisit my text with a fresh perspective.
I also could never have finished this paper without the unstinting support of my
family. My parents, Eugene and Nancy Hunn – quite familiar with the habits of
procrastinating graduate students – offered support in the form of frequent reminders,
babysitting, and celebratory dinners at appropriate moments. My in-laws, Philip and
Peggy Grote, kept me motivated with offers of childcare, as well as honest interest in my
work. My two children, Kellen and Lucy, have been amazingly understanding of their
mother’s apparent obsession with her computer. Drawing from her wealth of experience
as a second-grader, Lucy is convinced that I have been working hard on my “paragraph”;
I hope she will be impressed with the final result. Dr. Giulio Ongaro probably did not
realize how important a firm nudge via Facebook in September of 2011 would be, but I
must also thank him for pushing me to finally get really serious about finishing my
iii
degree. Dr. Stephen Sano, a dear friend, colleague and mentor, has also provided regular
encouragement and advice.
Finally and most of all, I thank my husband, Kurt Grote.

iv
Table of Contents

Acknowledgements ii

List of Tables vi

List of Figures vii

Abstract x

Chapter 1: Introduction 1
Overview of Related Scholarship 3
Techniques of Poetic Analysis 6
Walt Whitman’s Life and Work 9

Chapter 2: Meet the Composers 14
Robert Maggio 14
Nico Muhly 16
Steven Sametz 17
John Muehleisen 18
The Interviews 20
Why did you choose Whitman? How familiar were you with
his work before composing your setting(s)? 21
What is your general process for setting a text to music? 25
What is your philosophy on editing (changing, repeating)
poetic text in a musical composition? 27
What factors influenced how you chose to subdivide the texts
in your settings? 31

Chapter 3: Robert Maggio 34
Poetic Analysis: “The Voice of the Rain” 34
Musical Analysis: The Voice of the Rain 40
Poetic Analysis: “I Hear America Singing” 50
Musical Analysis: I Hear America Singing 54
Conclusion 72

Chapter 4: Nico Muhly 73
Overview: Expecting the Main Things from You 73
Musical Analysis: “I Hear America Singing” 75
Poetic Analysis: “A Farm Picture” 85
Musical Analysis: “A Farm Picture” 87
Poetic Analysis: “Poets to Come” 95
Musical Analysis: “Poets to Come” 98
Conclusion 106
v
Chapter 5: Steven Sametz 108
Overview: We two 108
Poetic Analysis: “Earth, My Likeness” 113
Musical Analysis: “Earth, my likeness” 116
Poetic Analysis: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” /
“As Adam Early in the Morning” 120
Musical Analysis: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” /
“As Adam Early in the Morning” 124
Poetic Analysis: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me” 127
Musical Analysis: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me” 130
Poetic Analysis: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes” 134
Musical Analysis: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes” 138
Poetic Analysis: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d” 142
Musical Analysis: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d” 149
Conclusion 157

Chapter 6: John Muehleisen 159
Poetic Analysis: “That Music Always Round Me” 159
Musical Analysis: That Music Always Round Me 166
Poetic Analysis: “Salut au Monde!” (abridged text) 175
Musical Analysis: Salut au Monde! 185
Conclusion 200

Chapter 7: Conclusion 201

Bibliography 205

Appendices
Appendix A: Sample Interview Request Letter 208
Appendix B: Sample Interview Consent Form 209
Appendix C: Sample Interview Questions 210
Appendix D: Transcript of Interview with Robert Maggio 211
Appendix E: Transcript of Interview with Nico Muhly 219
Appendix F: Transcript of Interview with John Muehleisen 229
Appendix G: Placement of Poems in Leaves of Grass 241
Appendix H: Comparison of Original and Muehleisen
“Salut au Monde!” Texts 242

vi
List of Tables

Table 3A. Formal Structure of Maggio: I Hear America Singing 40

Table 3B. Formal Structure of Maggio: The Voice of the Rain 56

Table 4A. Formal Structure of Muhly: “I Hear America Singing” 76

Table 4B. Formal Structure of Muhly: “A Farm Picture” 89

Table 4C. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly:
“A Farm Picture,” vibraphone and tam-tam 93

Table 4D. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly:
“A Farm Picture,” wood block 94

Table 4E. Formal Structure of Muhly: “Poets to Come” 99

Table 5A. Formal Structure of Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness” 117

Table 5B. Formal Structure of Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that
Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in the Morning” 124

Table 5C. Formal Structure of Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me” 130

Table 5D. Formal Structure of Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and
Consumes” 138

Table 5E. Formal Structure of Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were
Fool’d” 151

Table 6A. Formal Structure of Mueheisen: That Music Always Round Me 168

Table 6B. Formal Structure of Muehleisen: Salut au Monde! 187
vii
List of Figures

Figure 3A. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.1-12 41
Figure 3B. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.17-21 42
Figure 3C. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.50-54, soprano & alto 42
Figure 3D. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.60-65 45
Figure 3E. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.110-116 46
Figure 3F. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.71-78 48
Figure 3G. Maggio: I Hear America Singing, mm.166-177 49
Figure 3H. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.1-6, piano 1, right hand 58
Figure 3J. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.36-39, piano 2, left hand 58
Figure 3K. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.64-67, vibraphones 1 & 2 58
Figure 3L. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.104-106, chorus 62
Figure 3M. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.139-147 63
Figure 3N. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.64-68, chorus 66
Figure 3P. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.20-27, chorus 67
Figure 3Q. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.85-87, chorus 68
Figure 3R. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.61-63, chorus 69
Figure 3S. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.24-29, tenor 1 70
Figure 3T. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.32-35, tenor 1 70
Figure 3U. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain, mm.110-111, soprano 71
Figure 4A. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing,” mm.125-135, violin 1 77
Figure 4B. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing,” mm.20-23 81
viii
Figure 4C. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing,” mm.185-190 82
Figure 4D. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing,” mm.214-19 84
Figure 4E. Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” mm.7-13, solo soprano 88
Figure 4F. Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” mm.26-31 90
Figure 4G. Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” mm.55-57 91
Figure 4H. Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” mm.8-13, wood block 93
Figure 4J. Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” mm.43-48, wood block 94
Figure 4K. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” m.96, chorus sopranos and altos 100
Figure 4L. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” mm.103-107, strings and organ 100
Figure 4M. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” mm.239-245 101
Figure 4N. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” mm.166-168 103
Figure 4P. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” mm.246-252 105
Figure 5A. Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness,” mm.4-8 118
Figure 5B. Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness,” mm.11-13 119
Figure 5C. Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” /
“As Adam Early in the Morning,” mm. 44-45 125

Figure 5D. Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” /
“As Adam Early in the Morning,” mm. 46-47 126

Figure 5E. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.66-72 131
Figure 5F. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.73-76,
solo quartet 133
Figure 5G. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.77-81, chorus 133
Figure 5H. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.82-86 139
Figure 5J. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.87-92 140
ix
Figure 5K. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.102-110 141
Figure 5L. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.121-124 142
Figure 5M. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.136-155 150
Figure 5N. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.207-210 152
Figure 5P. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.219-222 152
Figure 5Q. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.160-184 155
Figure 6A. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me, mm.1-4 169
Figure 6B. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me, mm.25-28 170
Figure 6C. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me, mm.36-40 170
Figure 6D. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me, mm.76-81 171
Figure 6E. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me, mm.28-31 171
Figure 6F. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me, mm.51-54 174
Figure 6G. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.1-5 188
Figure 6H. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.9-12 190
Figure 6J. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.75-78 192
Figure 6K. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.87-89, choirs B and C 193
Figure 6L. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.126-136, choirs A and B 195
Figure 6M. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.30-39, choirs B and C 197
Figure 6N. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.49-51, choir C 198
Figure 6P. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!, mm.75-78, choir A 199
x
Abstract
Choral compositions, with few exceptions, begin with text. Text comes first,
music comes second. This was true for the medieval cleric setting Gregorian chant, and
it is true for the 21
st
-century composer creating a new work. The relationship between
text and music is a complex one. There is a distinct element of music involved in the
creation of poetry – and inherent to the poetic form itself, as a result. In setting a text to
music, a composer does more than simply respond to the meaning of the words: there is
the music of the text, expressed in its structure and form, its imagery, its sonic
characteristics, its pace, and its affect, that determines a composer’s musical response to
it. Like poetry, music has the potential to convey far more than just the information
contained within its component parts. Its meaning goes well beyond what can be printed
on the page, either in the form of written language or musical notation. The combination
of music and poetry, each with its own distinctly indefinable component, makes choral
music a particularly rich source of potential meaning, but also particularly challenging to
analyze.
That complex relationship between music and text is the real focus of this
dissertation. The project itself employs a relatively narrow focus; it concentrates on Walt
Whitman settings published by four American composers – Robert Maggio, Nico Muhly,
Steven Sametz, and John Muehleisen – between 2004 and 2008. This allows for a more
comprehensive examination of Whitman’s distinctive poetic style, and enables more
direct comparisons between composer responses. However, the detailed poetic analysis
xi
and text-focused musical analysis demonstrated in this project can be broadly applied to
any musical work incorporating text.
In addition to the analysis forming the core of this project, each of the four
composers was interviewed about his compositional process and his approach to
choosing and setting text. Full transcripts of three of these interviews (the fourth could
not be recorded due to technical problems) are included as appendices, and an analysis of
general practices and attitudes among the four composers is included as a separate
chapter.

1
Chapter 1
Introduction

It’s essential to keep in mind that in poetry the music comes first, before
everything else, everything else: until the poem has found its music, it’s merely
verbal matter, information. Thought, meaning, vision, the very words, come after
the music has been established, and in the most mysterious way they’re already
contained in it.
– C. K. Williams, On Whitman

The beauty of music is the power to suggest things that even words might not
convey.
– Jennifer Higdon, “Program Notes: Dooryard Bloom”

Choral compositions, with few exceptions, begin with text. Text comes first,
music comes second. This was true for the medieval cleric setting Gregorian chant, and
it is true for the 21
st
-century composer creating a new work. The relationship between
text and music is a complex one. As the quote above from famed American poet C. K.
Williams demonstrates, there is a distinct element of music involved in the creation of
poetry – and inherent to the poetic form itself. This is also true, though perhaps not to the
same extent, with prose writing; there is a rhythm, a sense of logical flow that marks
good prose. Thus, in setting text to music, a good composer aims to do more than simply
respond to the meaning of the words. The music of the text, expressed in its structure and
form, its imagery, its sonic characteristics, its pace, and its affect, determines a
composer’s musical response. Composers approach text in different ways. Some treat
text with the honor and respect of a sacred object, aiming primarily to support or amplify
its perceived content without adding musical commentary. In the world of conducting,
2
one finds a corollary in conductors who actively subvert their own interpretive impulses
to what they perceive as the composer’s intentions. For other composers, the process of
setting a text to music provides a welcome opportunity to present not only the text but the
composer’s interpretation or opinion of it. In some cases, the composer utilizes the
original intent or function of a text in order to convey an entirely different meaning;
Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem, Op.66, which uses texts from the Catholic Mass for the
Dead to convey a powerful anti-war message, exemplifies this approach. Every
composer is unique, and the spectrum of potential attitudes towards text is a broad one.
Jennifer Higdon’s quote (above) highlights the fact that – like poetry – music has
the potential to convey far more than just the information contained within its component
parts. Its meaning goes beyond what can be printed on the page, either in the form of
written language or musical notation. The combination of music and poetry, each with its
own distinctly indefinable component, makes choral music a particularly rich source of
potential meaning, but also particularly challenging to analyze.
That complex relationship between music and text is the focus of this dissertation.
The project itself employs a relatively narrow frame; it concentrates on Walt Whitman
settings published by four American composers – Robert Maggio, Nico Muhly, Steven
Sametz, and John Muehleisen – between 2004 and 2008. This allows for a more
comprehensive examination of Whitman’s distinctive poetic style, and enables more
direct comparisons between composer responses. However, the detailed poetic analysis
and text-focused musical analysis demonstrated in this project can be broadly applied to
any musical work incorporating text.
3
Chapter 1 surveys previous scholarship on the connection between music and the
poetry of Walt Whitman, introduces the basic tools and concepts of poetic analysis, and
provides a brief overview of Walt Whitman’s life and work. Chapter 2 introduces the
four composers featured in this project. In addition to the analysis forming the core of
the study, each composer was interviewed about his compositional process and approach
to choosing and setting text. Full transcripts of three of these interviews (the fourth could
not be recorded due to technical problems) are included in Appendices D, E, and F.
Chapter 2 includes biographical information on the composers, as well as analysis of their
answers to more general interview questions. Comments specific to particular works are
incorporated into subsequent chapters. Chapters 3 through 6 feature detailed analysis of
the compositions. In each, analysis of the poetic text on its own is followed by analysis
of the musical work, focusing in particular on how the setting reflects (or does not reflect)
the features highlighted in the poetic analysis. This approach mimics the compositional
process, which also begins with the text alone. The ultimate goal is an illumination of the
composer’s response to the poetry. The paper concludes with a cumulative assessment of
the project in Chapter 7.

Overview of Related Scholarship
Whitman scholarship is a diverse, well-populated field of study. A number of
significant publications examine the connection between Whitman’s poetry and music.
Robert D. Faner’s Walt Whitman and Opera (1951) and Charmenz Lenhart’s Musical
Influence on American Poetry (1956) explore the potential influence of musical forms
4
and imagery in Whitman’s work. Many of their conclusions, however, have been
challenged, as detailed in Frank Mortimer’s 1968 Ph.D. dissertation, “Music in American
Literary History: A Survey of the Significance of Music in the Writings of Eight
American Literary Figures.” Lou Stem Mize’s 1967 dissertation, “A Study of Selected
Choral Settings of Walt Whitman Poems,” catalogues parallels between poetic imagery
and compositional techniques in settings by Norman Dello Joio, Howard Hanson, Roy
Harris and William Schuman.
1
Dr. Mize’s focus on characteristics of poetic texts was an
early inspiration for this study’s approach to poetic analysis. A particularly rich source of
information, John Wannamaker’s 1972 Ph.D. dissertation, “The Musical Settings of the
Poetry of Walt Whitman: A Study of Theme, Structure and Prosody,” surveys over 400
choral and vocal compositions for common themes and compositional techniques. This
study proposes three general text-setting methods employed by composers, although the
author concludes that “the separate methods are capable of combination, and indeed most
compositions of real musical worth show elements of all three quite freely interchanged
as the occasion demands. Strictly speaking, it is usually in combination that one finds the
most sensitive treatments of Whitman’s lines.”
2
Nedra Cobb includes several Whitman
settings in her 1992 dissertation, “Rhyme and Reason: A Critical View of Poetry and
Prose Used in the Twentieth-Century American Art Song,” which compares musical
treatments of different types of texts, from poetry to prose.

Cobb determines that textual

1
Lous Stem Mize, “A Study of Selected Choral Settings of Walt Whitman Poems” (Ph.D. diss., Florida
State University, 1967), 1.

2
John Samuel Wannamaker, “The Musical Settings of the Poetry of Walt Whitman: A Study of Theme,
Structure, and Prosody” (PhD diss., University of Minnesota, 1972), 521.

5
imagery, rather than form, plays the most decisive role in a composer’s response: a
finding further supported by this study.
3
“Four Twentieth-Century Choral Settings of
Walt Whitman’s Poems by American Composers,” a 1999 dissertation by John F.
Warren, examines the relationship between text and music, as well as the characteristics
of choral settings by Howard Hanson, William Schuman, Jeffrey Van, and René Clausen.
This study highlights in particular how each composer’s general style and philosophy
unites successfully with Whitman’s poetry.
4
The most recent addition to this area of
scholarship is Karen Kenaston’s 2003 dissertation, “An Approach to the Critical
Evaluation of Settings of the Poetry of Walt Whitman: Lowell Liebermann’s Symphony
No. 2,” which proposes incorporating hermeneutics into traditional methods of analysis.
5

The depth of study demonstrated in Kenaston’s work – while focused on historical rather
than textual elements – is similar to that utilized in the current project.
This dissertation continues a significant line of inquiry into musical settings of
Walt Whitman’s poetry. What differentiates it is the combination of in-depth poetic
analysis and interviews with the composers. A good understanding of a poem’s
structural, metrical, and sonic characteristics is a great aid to interpretation; it facilitates
not only a better understanding of the intuitive response the composer expresses through
his or her work, but also the finer points of text expression that can make the difference

3
Nedra Patrice Cobb, “Rhyme and Reason: A Critical View of Poetry and Prose Used in the Twentieth-
Century American Art Song” (DMA diss., University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1992), 69.

4
John F. Warren, “Four Twentieth-Century Choral Settings of Walt Whitman’s Poems by American
Composers” (DMA diss., University of Miami, 1999) 165-166.

5
Karen Kenaston, “An Approach to the Critical Evaluation of Settings of the Poetry of Walt Whitman:
Lowell Liebermann’s Symphony No.2” (DMA diss., University of North Texas, 2003), 1.

6
between a competent performance and an inspired one. Choral conductors are charged to
teach their singers about the music they perform; this should also apply to texts. The
composer interviews provide first-hand insights into the compositional process of four
excellent contemporary composers. This process is a fascinating one: part mechanical,
part intuitive. Having four different perspectives to compare and contrast allows for a
better understanding of the potential spectrum of compositional practices.

Techniques of Poetic Analysis
Analysis provides insight into the creative process. It does not replicate that
process. The level of emphasis placed on technical elements during the creative process
varies from individual to individual. For some artists, the act of creation is a spontaneous
response to an irresistible impulse. This can be true of a composer:
I had composed many of my songs right through to the end, intoxicated by the
sound of the opening words and without concern for the subsequent course of the
poetic action – indeed without grasping this at all in the exuberance of composing
– and only some days later came to examine the text to find out what the poetic
content of the song really was. I then discovered to my great astonishment that I
have never done greater justice to the poet than when, led on by the first direct
contact with the opening sound, I had foreseen everything that obviously with
necessity had to follow this initial sound.”
6

It can likewise be true of a poet: “During the creative act the poet feels his thoughts and
images; afterwards he remembers them symbolically, thinks about them perhaps and

6
Arnold Schoenberg, Sämtliche Werke, Vol. I (Mainz: B. Schott’s Söhne, 1966), cited in Joseph Coroniti,
Poetry as Text in Twentieth-Century Vocal Music: From Stravinsky to Reich (Lewiston, NY: E. Mellen
Press, 1992), 6.

7
cerebrates theories, explanations, rationalizations.”
7
For others, the creative impulse is
more focused on technique. American poet W. H. Auden said, “Every poet has his dream
reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and
choriambs…all my life, I have been more interested in poetic technique than anything
else.”
8
Likewise, the history of music is filled with composers who utilized formal
features to convey their creative impulse to praise God and the perfection of the universe.
Regardless, analysis provides a critical tool for evaluating why a particular piece of music
or work of poetry is successful or not, and for understanding how it works upon us on a
subconscious as well as conscious level.
The basic tools of poetic analysis illuminate the form and content of a poem.
Poetic forms can be closed (adhering to a pre-established pattern, such as a sonnet) or
open (governed by formal parameters unique to that poem).
9
Walt Whitman is generally
recognized as a pioneer of open form poetry, and the majority of contemporary poetry is
written in this form.
10
Open form poetry does not lack form; its form is simply not pre-
determined. Gay Wilson Allen prefers the term expressive form: “Whitman’s medium
for achieving his intuition would be expressive form. This term is also ambiguous and
has been used in various senses, but applied to Leaves of Grass it means that Whitman

7
Gay Wilson Allen, A Reader’s Guide to Walt Whitman (1970; repr., New York: Syracuse University
Press, 1997), 117-118.

8
W. H. Auden, quoted in Paul Fussell, Poetic Meter and Poetic Form, rev. ed. (New York: McGraw-Hill,
Inc., 1979), 3.

9
Academy of American Poets, “Poetry Glossary,” Academy of American Poets,
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/17105 (accessed August 14, 2011).

10
Fussell, 76-77.

8
began (usually) not with a predetermined rhythmical and linguistic pattern but with an
indefinite striving to discover a form in the very process of giving expression to his idea
or intuition.”
11
Closed poetic forms are organized by regular patterns of meter and
rhyme; these elements can play a central role in conveying meaning and structure in open
form poetry as well. The grouping of strong and weak syllables into regular metrical feet
is a defining feature of many closed forms, but such patterns can also emerge in open
form poetry. The most common poetic feet in English poetry are:
12

iamb weak – STRONG
anapest weak – weak – STRONG
trochee STRONG – weak
dactyl STRONG – weak – weak
spondee STRONG – STRONG
phyrric weak – weak

Iambic and anapestic feet are categorized as ascending or rising, while trochaic and
dactylic feet are labeled descending or falling. These labels simply describe the
placement of the strong accent at either the end or the beginning; they do not imply any
intrinsic or symbolic meaning.
13
The technique of scansion, a “system of representing
more or less conventional poetic rhythms by visual symbols for purposes of metrical
analysis and criticism,” is a useful tool for converting the temporal element of poetic
meter into a visual one.
14
The system of graphic scansion will be used throughout this
study; it employs symbols to denote weak ( ˘ ) and strong ( / ) syllables, divisions

11
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 160.

12
For a more detailed discussion of poetic feet, see Fussell, 17-22.

13
Fussell, 20.

14
Ibid., 17.

9
between poetic feet ( | ), and caesuras, or natural pauses in the language ( || ). Because
Whitman’s open form poetry does not follow any pre-determined pattern of metrical feet,
divisions ( | ) will only be marked when deemed useful to the study. It should also be
noted that the concept of a poetic foot is an abstract one; in spoken language, there are far
more than two gradations of accentual stress.
15
Furthermore, two people may easily
place stress differently when speaking the same line of text. Thus, scansion is applied in
this study only as a means to visually approximate the natural rhythm of the text rather
than to precisely catalog speech patterns. Although imprecise, it is still a highly valuable
tool.
Besides the less familiar technique of scansion, this study will include other
fundamental elements that convey meaning in poetry: imagery, symbolism, line structure,
tone, thematic content, transitions, sonic qualities, and repetition. In addition, the poems
will be considered in the context of Whitman’s output and philosophical world view.

Whitman’s Life and Work
Walt Whitman was born on Long Island, New York, on May 31, 1819, to a
working-class family. When Whitman was four years old, his family moved to Brooklyn,
(at that time a village of 7,000 people)
16
– just across from New York City, a place that
would loom large in the poet’s later work as a symbol of the energy and diversity of his
beloved nation. He attended public schools in Brooklyn for six years, gaining from the

15
Ibid., 21.

16
Charles M. Oliver, Critical Companion to Walt Whitman: A Literary Reference to His Life and Work
(New York: Facts on File, Inc., 2006), 7.

10
experience some rudimentary skills, as well as a profound hatred of corporal
punishment.
17
His formal education ended at age 11, when he went to work as an office
boy in the law firm of James B. Clark & Son.
18
His family was struggling financially and
needed the additional income.
19
Paradoxically, leaving his mediocre public school
behind may have been the best thing for Whitman’s intellectual development, as his
employer gave him a subscription to a large circulating library. His most meaningful
educational experiences came from voracious self-directed reading, as well as visits to
museums, theaters, and public lectures.
20
He was also strongly influenced by his father, a
political progressive, and by his family’s deep respect for Quaker ideals (although they
were not members of any religious denomination).
21
Whitman took his first job with a
newspaper – the Long Island Patriot – in 1831, at the age of 12.
22
He would
subsequently hold numerous jobs (printer, writer, reporter, editor) with different
newspapers in and around New York – including his own weekly publication, the (short-
lived) Long-Islander – and would also spend many unhappy years teaching in rural
public schools.
23
In his twenties, Whitman also began to write fiction, and published a

17
Ed Folsom and Kenneth M. Price, “Walt Whitman,” Walt Whitman Archive,
http://www.whitmanarchive.org/biography/walt_whitman/index.html [accessed February 13, 2012].

18
Oliver, 8.

19
Ibid.

20
Folsom and Price.

21
Ibid.

22
Oliver, 8.

23
Folsom and Price.

11
large number of stories and poems, as well as a temperance novel, Franklin Evans; or
The Inebriate (which sold approximately 20,000 copies – more than anything else
Whitman published during his lifetime).
24
Relative to his later poetry, these works were
highly conventional, “artificial in diction and didactic in purpose”;
25
critics continue to
debate how Whitman made the immense leap to Leaves of Grass.
26

In 1855, at the age of 36, Whitman published the first edition of Leaves of Grass,
a small volume of twelve untitled and startlingly original poems, preceded by a rhapsodic
essay (now commonly known as the 1855 Preface) on the need for a national poet
“commensurate” with the American people.
27
The poetry was revolutionary in form,
style and content. It was highly ambitious. It also struck a chord in a society wracked by
internal divisions, and yearning for unity: it was
an unprecedented form, a kind of experimental verse cast in unrhymed long lines
with no identifiable meter, the voice an uncanny combination of oratory,
journalism, and the Bible—haranguing, mundane, and prophetic—all in the
service of identifying a new American democratic attitude, an absorptive and
accepting voice that would catalog the diversity of the country and manage to
hold it all in a vast, single, unified identity…This new voice spoke confidently of
union at a time of incredible division and tension in the culture, and it spoke with
the assurance of one for whom everything, no matter how degraded, could be
celebrated as part of itself…His work echoed with the lingo of the American
urban working class and reached deep into the various corners of the roiling
nineteenth-century culture, reverberating with the nation's stormy politics, its
motley music, its new technologies, its fascination with science, and its evolving

24
Ibid.

25
Ibid.

26
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 18.

27
Ibid., 49.

12
pride in an American language that was forming as a tongue distinct from British
English.
28

Over the course of his life, Whitman would eventually publish nine separate editions of
this seminal book, each one somewhat different in content and structure. Critical
response to Leaves of Grass was, throughout Whitman’s life, divided between those who
viewed it as a work of unprecedented genius, and those who decried its “pantheism and
libidinousness” and its “ridiculous swell of self-applause.”
29
Ralph Waldo Emerson,
after receiving a copy of the first edition, famously congratulated Whitman: “I greet you
at the beginning of a great career.”
30
But, Whitman “never achieved anything like the
broad readership among the ordinary people who were the subject and inspiration of so
much of the poetry, and he knew it, and was quietly saddened by it.”
31

Whitman viewed Leaves of Grass as an organic entity; his lifelong process of
editing and adding to it functioned in part to put his own life “on record,”
32
as well as
depict the history of 19
th
century America.
33
Thus, new poems reflected new experiences
and new perspectives. Living the “Bohemian life” in New York (and potentially a
romantic relationship with a young stage driver named Fred Vaughan), may have
contributed to Whitman’s sexually-charged “Calamus” and “Children of Adam” poems,

28
Folsom and Price.

29
Editorial, Christian Examiner, 1856, quoted in Wilson Allen, 10.

30
Ralph Waldo Emerson, letter to Walt Whitman, July 21, 1855, quoted in Wilson Allen, 17.

31
C. K. Williams, On Whitman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010), 182.

32
Wannamaker, 208.

33
Folsom and Price.

13
first published in the third edition (1860) of Leaves of Grass.
34
Whitman’s experiences
nursing hundreds of sick and injured soldiers during the American Civil War (1861-
1865), and the devastating loss he felt upon the assassination of President Lincoln in
1865, are chronicled with great clarity in Drum-Taps (1865) and Sequel (1865-66) –
independent publications that would be annexed to the fourth (1867) edition of Leaves of
Grass, and subsequently would be incorporated into the main book as the “Drum-Taps”
cluster.
35
The group of poems titled “Sands at Seventy,” (first published in the 1888
volume, November Boughs) convey the perspective of “an old man acutely aware of his
mortality.”
36
Whitman had suffered a serious stroke in 1873, and struggled with various
degrees of ill health until his death almost twenty years later, on March 26, 1892, at his
home in Camden, New Jersey. Whitman’s friend, Francis Howard Williams, gave the
closing speech at his funeral service: “He has lived, he has died, and death is less terrible
than it was before. Thousands and millions will walk down in the ‘dark valley of the
shadow’ holding Walt Whitman by the hand. Long after we are dead the brave words he
has spoken will sound like trumpets to the dying.”
37

34
Ibid.

35
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 90.

36
Ibid., 109.

37
Horace Traubel, ed., At the Graveside of Walt Whitman: Harleigh, Camden, New Jersey, March 30
th
and
Sprigs of Lilac (Philadelphia: Billstein, 1892), 22,
http://archive.org/stream/cu31924022225571#page/n29/mode/2up (accessed March 21, 2012).

14
Chapter 2
Meet the Composers

Robert Maggio
The American Record Guide describes the music of Robert Maggio as “lyrical,
passionate, melodic, and rhythmically charged.” Hailed as a composer of music that is
“smart, vital, and inventive” by the Philadelphia Inquirer, Robert Maggio has created a
substantial body of works in nearly every genre, each creating a unique connection
between the composer’s “wondrously eclectic vocabulary” (New York Times) and the
demands of a diverse body of commissions.
Recent projects include: Jackson Sounds (2011) for two cellos, commissioned for
Ballet X; Sicilian Songs (2011) for violinist Lara St. John; Touching Heaven (2010) for
flute and percussion, commissioned for Roxey Ballet; and Rain and Ash (String Quartet
No. 2) (2008) for the Borromeo Quartet. Works in progress include a song cycle for
baritone Randall Scarlata with piano quintet. As a member of the BMI Musical Theatre
Workshop, Maggio is also currently collaborating on various musical theater projects.
In the spring of 2004, Albany Records released a CD of Maggio’s recent choral
works including Aristotle, Jacklight, The Wishing Tree, and Rachel and Her Children.
The American Record Guide noted, “Maggio is quite a craftsman, with the traditional
elements... all contribute to a smooth, luxurious, somewhat mysterious, flow.” Fanfare
Magazine reported, “Maggio shows himself both deeply respectful of the choral tradition
and determined to put his own stamp on it.”
15
Published by Theodore Presser Company, Hickman Music Editions and Yelton
Rhodes, Maggio’s music is currently recorded on the Summit, Albany and New World
(CRI) labels. Other recent releases of Maggio’s music include A Sense of Space,
recorded by the American Brass Quintet, and Maggio’s string quartets, Songbook for
Annamaria and Rain and Ash, recorded by the Corigliano and Borromeo Quartets.
Maggio’s orchestral music has been performed by the Boston Pops, the Atlanta
Symphony, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, the Long
Beach Symphony, the National Symphony Orchestra of Mexico, the Oakland East Bay
Symphony, the Dallas/Fort Worth Symphony, the New York Youth Symphony, and the
Tampa Bay Youth Orchestra. His chamber and vocal/choral music has been
commissioned and performed by the New York Festival of Song, Lincoln Center Out-of-
Doors Festival, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, Colorado Quartet (Arizona
Friends of Chamber Music commission), Sanford Sylvan and David Breitman (Barlow
commission), Detroit Chamber Winds, Meridian Arts Ensemble, Composers Inc.,
Network for New Music, Orchestra 2001 and the Choral Arts Society of Philadelphia.
In addition to composing for ballet, Maggio has created scores for numerous modern
dance companies (Stephen Pelton Dance Theater, Randy James Dance Works, Leah Stein
and Dancers). In 1994, he was composer-in-residence at the American Dance Festival.
He has composed songs and incidental music for professional theater productions,
including those at Yale Repertory Theater, Philadelphia Theater Company, Peoples Light
and Theater, and Shakespeare Santa Cruz.
16
Maggio has received awards from the Guggenheim Foundation, the American
Academy of Arts and Letters, the Pew Fellowships in the Arts, the Pennsylvania Council
on the Arts, and Meet the Composer.
A graduate of Yale and the University of Pennsylvania, Robert Maggio lives in
Lambertville, New Jersey with his partner, the artist, Tony LaSalle, and their daughter
Annamaria. He is a Professor and Chairman of the Department of Music Theory and
Composition in the School of Music at West Chester University.

Nico Muhly
Born in 1981, New York-based composer Nico Muhly holds a degree in English
Literature from Columbia University, and a Masters of Music degree from Juilliard
School, where he studied under Christopher Rouse and John Corigliano. His work spans
an enormous range of styles, genres, and ensembles. Most recently, he has completed
two full-scales operas: Two Boys (2011), commissioned by the Metropolitan Opera,
Lincoln Center Theater Opera/Theater Commissions Program, in a co-production with
the English National Opera, and Dark Sisters (2011), co-commissioned by the Gotham
Chamber Opera, Music-Theatre Group, and the Opera Company of Philadelphia. He has
also written songs for soprano Jessica Rivera, countertenor David Daniels, and tenor
Mark Padmore (with violinist Pekka Kuusisto and the Britten Sinfonia). Muhly’s film
credits include the scores for Joshua (2007) and Best Picture nominee The Reader
(2008). He has worked with choreographer Benjamin Millepied on works for the
American Ballet Theater (From Here On Out), the Paris Opéra Ballet (Triade), and the
17
Nederlands Ballet (One Thing Leads to Another), and has collaborated as a performer,
arranger and conductor with numerous artists and bands, including Antony and the
Johnsons, Bjork, Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Doveman, Grizzly Bear, Jonsi of Sigur Ros,
Valgeir Sigurðsson, Ben Frost and Sam Amidon. Muhly has also released two albums of
his own chamber music, Speaks Volumes (2007) and Mothertongue (2008), both on the
artist-run record label Bedroom Community.
A former boy chorister, Nico Muhly has composed extensively for choir,
including commissions from the Clare College Choir and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus.
New York’s Saint Thomas Church commissioned and performed his Bright Mass with
Canons, later recorded on their American Voices album and on the Los Angeles Master
Chorale’s all-Muhly Decca debut, A Good Understanding. Muhly’s orchestral works
have been premiered by the American Symphony Orchestra, Aurora Orchestra, the
Boston Pops, the New York Philharmonic, and the Chicago Symphony. He has presented
concerts of his chamber music at Carnegie Hall and the Whitney Museum. He is
currently working on a new quintuple piano concerto commissioned by the Five Browns.

Steven Sametz
Steven Sametz is the Ronald J. Ulrich Professor of Music at Lehigh University,
and Director of Lehigh University Choral Arts. He is the founding director of the Lehigh
University Choral Union, and has also served as Artistic Director of the professional
chamber choir The Princeton Singers since 1998. The Lehigh University Choral
18
Composer Forum, a summer course founded and directed by Dr. Sametz, provides
training and mentoring for emerging choral composers.
Dr. Sametz has received commissions from the National Endowment for the Arts,
the Connecticut Council on the Arts, and the Santa Fe Music Festival, and was the
recipient of the American Choral Directors Association's 2011 Raymond W. Brock
commission. His works have been premiered by Chanticleer, the Dale Warland Singers,
the Philadelphia Singers, Pro Arte Chamber Choir, the Santa Fe Desert Chorale, and the
Connecticut Choral Artists. His compositions are published by Oxford University Press,
Alliance Music, ECS Publishing, GIA, and Steven Sametz Publications.
Dr. Sametz is also in frequent demand as a guest conductor. Appearances include
the Taipei Philharmonic Foundation, the Berkshire Music Festival, the New York
Chamber Symphony, the Santa Fe Music Festival, the Netherlands Radio Choir, and
Chanticleer. His in time of appears on the Grammy Award-winning album by
Chanticleer, Colors of Love, and his work may be heard on six other Chanticleer
recordings. Dr. Sametz has served as panelist for the National Endowment for the Arts,
ACDA, ASCAP, and Chorus America. He holds degrees from Yale University, the
University of Wisconsin-Madison, and the Hochschule für Musik und darstellende Kunst
in Frankfurt, Germany.

John Muehleisen
Based in the Pacific Northwest, composer John Muehleisen is increasingly in
demand for commissions and performances from choral ensembles around the country.
19
He has served as Composer-in-Residence for Seattle’s Opus 7 Vocal Ensemble since
1996, and was Composer-in-Residence for the Dale Warland Singers during their final
season (2003-2004). For the 2011-2012 season, he is also Composer-in-Residence for
Seattle’s Choral Arts; the ensemble premiered his latest large work, Pietà, in March of
2012. Muehleisen has received major commissions from Conspirare, the Dale Warland
Singers, Choral Arts Ensemble (Rochester, MN), the Esoterics, and Wake Forest
University, among others. More recently, he has received commissions from the South
Bend Chamber Singers, as well as San Francisco’s cutting-edge vocal ensemble, Volti.
In 2012, the John Alexander Singers will feature four of his choral works in concert, and
on their latest recording on Delos.
Muehleisen’s music has been performed and recorded by professional and
community choirs in the United States, Canada, and Europe, and by an increasing number
of college and university choirs. His works have been featured at the Sixth World Choral
Symposium; at the 2007 National Endowment for the Arts American Masterworks
Choral Festival in Austin, TX; and at ACDA national and regional conventions in 2007,
2008, 2009, and 2012. Commissions and performances of his works have been supported
by grants from the American Music Center, Meet the Composer, the Jerome Foundation,
the Alice M. Ditson Fund of Columbia University, and the National Endowment for the
Arts.
After completing a B.Mus. in Saxophone Performance from CSU Sacramento,
John earned a M.Mus. in Composition from the University of Washington, where he
studied with William Bergsma, William O. Smith, and Diane Thome. During doctoral
20
studies at Indiana University, he studied composition with John Eaton, Eugene O’Brien,
and Harvey Sollberger, as well as orchestration with Donald Erb. He has also
participated in master classes and extended residency programs with Lukas Foss, Milton
Babbitt, Earle Brown, and Bernard Rands.

The Interviews
Interviews with the four composers featured in this project were conducted by
phone between April, 2011 and December, 2012. The interviews with Nico Muhly, John
Muehleisen and Robert Maggio were recorded, and full transcripts are included at the end
of this document (Appendices D, E and F). Due to technical problems, the interview with
Steven Sametz was unfortunately not recorded; the information and quotes included in
this chapter were recorded by hand. Each interview included a set of general questions
(see Appendix C: Sample Interview Questions), as well as questions specific to the works
included in the study. The general questions were designed to be broad and open-ended,
in order to allow the composers to focus on the issues most important to them. This
chapter will consider the composers’ answers to some of the general questions, as this
provides the best basis for comparison. Not all of the general questions ultimately
yielded discussion relevant to the project; while still interesting, and retained in the
interview transcripts, they will not be surveyed in this chapter. The composers’ input on
specific works is, for the most part, incorporated into Chapters 3-6.

21
Why did you choose Whitman? How familiar were you with his work before composing
your setting(s)?

All of the composers were familiar with Walt Whitman’s poetry from a relatively
early age. Given Whitman’s place in the American literary canon, his work is a standard
part of most high school English and History curriculums. The particular elements of
Whitman’s work that appealed to each composer varied, however.
All were drawn to the density of imagery, as well as the musical quality of
Whitman’s language. Robert Maggio said, “Whitman’s language is very rich in imagery,
and I find that in itself is very musical. His sentences and thoughts are long, flowing,
rhapsodic sentences and thoughts…There’s something rich and over-adhesive and
generous about that poetry.”
38
Steven Sametz was drawn to “the inherent rhythm of the
language, its eloquence.”
39
When choosing a text for musical setting, he said that, as a
general rule, he looks for language that “sings off the page.”
40
John Muehleisen has a
similar, intuitive approach: “When I read a poem, I have to have some kind of a musical
reaction to it. There’s something I sense in a poem when I read it that tells me I’ll be able
to set it.”
41
At the same time, two of the composers struggled with more concrete
imagery (not coincidentally, in poems chosen by commissioners). Muhly initially
resisted setting “I Hear America Singing” in part because of the jingoistic flavor he
perceived in it: “There’s something like an RNC [Republican National Committee] ad

38
Robert Maggio, interview by author, October 26, 2011; appendix D, 211.

39
Steven Sametz, interview by author, December 14, 2011.

40
Ibid.

41
John Muehleisen, interview by author, May 3, 2011; appendix F, 231.

22
about the whole first half of it.”
42
As further discussed in Chapter 3, Muhly’s approach to
the text, while perhaps less serious than the poet’s intended tone, results in an expressive,
distinctive setting. Muehleisen was confronted with “the inevitable problems of
taking…text references to music and portraying them with music” in his setting of “That
Music Always Round Me.”
43
He worried that the musical imagery was “just too
obvious…too specific.”
44
He coped with this challenge by looking past the musical
references and focusing instead on the images associated with them; in his words, he
“read deeper into the poem…”
45
Of all of the composers, Muhly seemed most attuned to
the overall affect of the poems he chose – the overriding emotional quality derived from
both the language itself and the images conveyed by it. He was drawn to “A Farm
Picture” because he found it “very still.”
46
He liked “Poets to Come” because it fell (in
terms of style and energy level) in between the highly active first poem (“I Hear America
Singing”) and the static second one (“A Farm Picture”).
47
The textual content or message
of the three poems was not as important to him as the emotional world they each
conveyed.
The thematic content of the poetry was also an important factor for the
composers. Muhly saw in the poems “the same kind of civic holiness found in the

42
Nico Muhly, interview by author, April 5, 2011; appendix E, 222.

43
Muehleisen, interview, 229.

44
Ibid., 230.

45
Ibid.

46
Muhly, interview, 220.

47
Ibid.

23
Psalms.”
48
Interestingly, Sametz also described Whitman’s poetic language as “Biblical,
magisterial…”
49
While these observations relate to Whitman’s language – literary critics
have long noted parallels between Whitman’s prosody and that of the Bible – they also
speak to the broad, inclusive scope of Whitman’s vision, its elevated spiritual message,
and its enduring influence on American culture.
50
This mystical quality, which
Muehleisen described as Whitman’s “capital K Kosmos, the interconnectedness of all
things”
51
– was of central importance to the composer when choosing to set “Salut au
Monde!” for a NEA American Masterpieces Choral Festival organized around the theme,
“Crossing the Divide.”
52
Robert Maggio and Steven Sametz both also cited Whitman’s
unapologetic, compelling expression of both heterosexual and homosexual love as an
important personal connection to the poet’s works. For Maggio, Whitman’s warmth and
acceptance was most compelling: “…there’s always a sensibility in his writing – his
openness in a kind of beautiful, romantic way. I’m very much an open gay man. I have a
partner of 20 years, and we have a daughter who’s ten years old now. And, I teach at a
university, and I’m out. I just think there’s something important about my personal
identity that connects with Whitman.”
53
Sametz also identified Whitman with courage:

48
Nico Muhly, “Thoughts on Choral Music,” liner notes, Nico Muhly: A Good Understanding, Los
Angeles Master Chorale dir. Grant Gershom, Decca B0014741-02, 2010, 8.

49
Sametz, interview.

50
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 167.

51
Muehleisen, interview, 229.

52
Ibid., 229-230.

53
Maggio, interview, 212.

24
“In certain ways, he was being heroic, although perhaps not purposefully. It is tragic how
he recanted at the end of his life, but that doesn’t take away from the strength, the
unabashedness of his early poems.”
54

Whitman’s symbolic association with the American nation was also a significant
factor, both to composers and to commissioners. Both of Muehleisen’s settings were
written for commissions that stipulated something American. As the composer said,
“when you choose an American poet, Whitman’s certainly got to be on the list…”
55

Muhly’s commission also stipulated Whitman texts, although it is not clear why. For
Maggio, the choice of an American poet grew naturally out of the commissioning
conductor’s special interest in early American choral music; Whitman was easily
accessible “common ground.”
56

One final issue that emerged in the interviews was a poem’s compatibility with
musical commentary. Robert Maggio was the only composer who mentioned this in the
context of choosing texts: “I have to find a text that I understand, and also one that I think
has room for my ideas, musically. There needs to be something to elucidate in that
text.”
57
For Maggio, the resulting composition “has to be a reading of the poem that
makes the poem – somehow – more than what it was before.”
58
The balance between
respecting the text and producing something new and meaningful through the

54
Sametz, interview.

55
Muehleisen, interview, 229.

56
Maggio, interview, 212.

57
Ibid., 213.

58
Ibid., 214.

25
compositional process was mentioned by all of the composers in various ways. John
Muehleisen asserted that “my job as the composer is to serve the text,” but added,
“Hopefully, every composer who sets a given text has their own particular approach to it,
and their own particular interpretation of it.”
59
Nico Muhly expressed this balance as an
opportunity rather than a challenge: “one of the great things about being a composer is
that you can build a relationship with texts by setting them.”
60
For Steven Sametz, a
musical setting doesn’t alter textual meaning so much as it creates “a new landscape for
the text.”
61
His goal in the process is to “release the music out of the poetry.”
62
It was
important to all of the composers that they chose texts that they felt some kind of
personal connection to – whether based in an intuitive or intellectual appreciation, or
both.

What is your general process for setting a text to music?
The first step of the text-setting process for all four of the composers is the
internalization of the text. John Muehleisen uses Microsoft Word to create two copies of
a poetic text: one with formatting identical to the printed version, which he uses to read
repeatedly and “internalize”; the other with the lines spaced out widely, which he uses to

59
Muehleisen, interview, 232-233.

60
Muhly, interview, 219.

61
Sametz, interview.

62
Ibid.

26
notate musical ideas and notes as he studies the poem.
63
Tactile manipulation of the text
is also central to Nico Muhly’s process, although he writes the text out by hand, “because
I can space it out better…it’s sort-of like rearranging the Scrabble tiles a little bit because
a setting is so different from a reading.”
64
Muhly also says that he likes to do this
“because sometimes I make mistakes...Sometimes I mis-transcribe things.”
65
Even at this
early stage, he welcomes the potential for change inherent to the creative process. Like
Muehleisen, Muhly also creates a written version that allows him to visually connect
elements of the poetic form, imagery or language to musical ideas. He copies the text on
the left-hand side of a large sheet of tablet paper, and lists general musical reactions and
ideas on the right.
66
Muhly also memorizes the text: “That [is] the first thing, because
you need to have the overview of the whole thing quite internalized. There’s nothing
worse than it feeling like it’s being read.”
67
In addition to memorization of the text,
Robert Maggio also reads it out loud: “I think it’s really important to have a strong sense
of the rhythm of the words, and a strong sense of the structure of the poem. So, I spend a
lot of time reading it, memorizing it, to understand something about the deep, deep
structure.”
68
It is interesting that the process adopted by Muehleisen and Muhly is a
highly visual one, while Maggio’s is more auditory – he internalizes and analyzes the

63
Muehleisen, interview, 232.

64
Muhly, interview, 220.

65
Ibid.

66
Ibid., 221.

67
Ibid.

68
Maggio, interview, 213.

27
poem largely by speaking and hearing it. Steven Sametz, in contrast, did not describe any
structured procedures for text-setting in his interview. His process, he says, is “highly
intuitive…I don’t analyze.”
69
Instead, his goal is to respond to the “inscape” of the poem,
a concept – first described by poet Gerard Manley Hopkins – that “has little to do with
words, but more to do with the imagery released ‘behind’ the poem.”
70
Sametz also
contends that poetry “tends to call for its own music. A Medieval poem will call for very
different music than a poem of Sylvia Plath.”
71
In setting a poem, Sametz seeks “to
honor the world of the poem.”
72
Regardless of the particulars, the fundamental goal for
all is to arrive at an intuitive, comprehensive understanding of the text. This clearly
encompasses the whole spectrum of poetic content, from structure and language, to
imagery and “inscape.” Whether by reading, speaking, writing or simply reacting, the
composer begins the compositional process by interacting with the text.

What is your philosophy on editing (changing, repeating) poetic text in a musical
composition?

Changes – both large and small – were made to most of the texts studied in this
project. While a few can be traced to human error or earlier editions of Leaves of Grass,
in most cases, changes were made consciously by the composer. Given that all of the
composers recognized that the compositional process adds meaning to that conveyed by

69
Sametz, interview.

70
Ibid.

71
Ibid.

72
Ibid.

28
the poetic text alone, it is not surprising that none of them viewed the text as completely
immutable. At the same time – just as Wannamaker found in his survey of Whitman
settings – changes were not made indiscriminately; they were determined by musical
considerations, and the composers sought to preserve the “spirit” of the original.
73

In this project, the poem most dramatically edited was “Salut au Monde!” From
an original length of 226 lines, John Muehleisen cut it down to 39. This restricted the
musical setting to a length appropriate to its purpose (it was one piece among many on a
festival concert program), and it made the poem acceptable to the composer in other
ways. Muehleisen acknowledges a long-standing dislike of Whitman’s characteristic
self-referencing, and also prefers his more “poetic” passages to the “journalistic” ones.
74

Editing the poem allowed the composer to “basically get around what for me was an
obstacle – aesthetically, as well as musically.”
75
Despite the dramatic cuts, Muehleisen
did attempt to preserve the original poem’s skeletal structure. In most cases (see
Appendix H), he pulled whole sections from the original, not just individual lines. The
opening and closing stanzas remain fairly consistent between the two versions. While
removing virtually all references to specific places, things or people, he also consciously
retained the repetitive litanies of the original, although in shortened form. He was very
thoughtful about preserving Whitman’s “intent,” his “real sense of compassion,” and his

73
Wannamaker, 277.

74
Muehleisen, interview, 233.

75
Ibid.

29
“message” of connection, unity among all people.
76
The interview with the composer
also demonstrates how carefully he sought to preserve the dramatic shape of the original,
as well as the natural “flow” of Whitman’s language.
77
Whether or not he was successful
is a matter of opinion. Given that a text is necessarily and significantly altered when it is
set to music, the heavy editing done by Muehleisen can be viewed simply as one end of a
spectrum of textual change.
Steven Sametz also significantly edited several Whitman poems in order to arrive
at the text he used for the second movement of We two. In this case, the editorial
decisions were heavily influenced by the commissioning choir director, Erick Lichte,
who at the start of the process sent Sametz a collection of his favorite Whitman poems
and excerpts: “I looked through Erick’s snippets, and some of them just sort-of glanced
off each other…I created a synthesis that meant something to me.”
78
Rather in the same
way that Nico Muhly welcomes the possibility of text changes occurring through
transcription errors, Sametz seems to accept the serendipity of receiving poetic fragments
from a colleague that happen to fit together in an effective manner. Sametz also removed
one line from “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d.” In his interview, he explained
that this was necessary “to sustain the balance in the musical structure.”
79
Keeping the

76
Ibid., 234.

77
Ibid.

78
Sametz, interview.

79
Ibid.

30
line would have been “more than the music could bear.”
80
While respectful and
knowledgeable about Whitman, he does not hesitate to make changes to the poems if
those changes serve the dramatic or musical form of his work.
Nico Muhly referenced the experiential difference between reading a poem and
hearing it set to music when he explained why he rarely repeats text in a musical setting:
“Repeating text, for me, is a feature exclusively of the silent reading of poetry. When
your eye glances on it, you can read the line combined with the line before it…But with
music, it has to be this constant treadmill, and you can’t get off.”
81
The exuberant
repetition of the final word, “you,” in the third movement of Expecting the Main Things
from You, is a rare divergence, but very much in keeping with the work’s overall arc from
concrete to abstract. Robert Maggio had a completely different attitude toward textual
repetition: “I typically don’t like changing text, but with choral music I’m much freer. In
songs, I tend to write as though they are lyrics to a song, or a drama that’s being played
out in real time. In choral music, I feel like I’m writing more of a meditation, more like
an aria would be. I allow myself to repeat words. I allow myself to return images.”
82

Steven Sametz uses the repetition of text judiciously. The only notable instance in We
two occurs at the end of the final movement. He said, “Movement 4 is intimate;
Movement 5 is ‘out.’ Intuitively, repetition creates emphasis. I used that to express the

80
Ibid.

81
Muhly, interview, 225.

82
Maggio, interview, 213.

31
joy and ecstasy of the final poem.”
83
For all of the composers, the editing of text was
acceptable within certain limitations. Changes preserved the poet’s perceived intent, and
were often made in order to accommodate the needs of the musical and/or dramatic form
of the composition.

What factors influenced how you chose to subdivide the texts in your settings?
The connection between poetic form and musical form is a central focus of the
analysis in chapters 2-5. The interviews provided an opportunity to understand how
conscious the composers were of this relationship. John Muehleisen is perhaps the most
analytical of the group, and not surprisingly his compositional process is intimately tied
to a parallel analysis of the poetic form. Specifically, he looks for repetition in the textual
imagery, and builds a musical form based upon the repetition of musical themes: “The
recurrence of musical themes in a piece of music is very powerful for providing structure,
and for giving a meaningful experience to the listener.”
84
Just as a good poet establishes
patterns in order to depart from them in meaningful ways, however, Muehleisen is not
bound to this procedure. He consciously counteracts the textual repetition of the litanies
in Salut au Monde! by placing sectional shifts in the midst of them: “I love the litanies.
There’s a kind of epic power to them. But if you just use the same music, I think the text

83
Sametz, interview.

84
Muehleisen, interview, 232.

32
would lose that power…Where I had sameness, as it were, in those lists, I tried musically
to work against that.”
85

The interview with Robert Maggio demonstrated how a composer may respond to
elements of a poetic text that do not necessarily coincide with its syntactic form. As
discussed in chapter 2, the musical structure of Maggio’s The Voice of the Rain does not
always conform to the poetic form. Maggio explained in his interview that he was drawn
to the fundamental action described in the poem, rather than its structural form: “What is
the voice of the rain saying that it does? ‘I rise,’ ‘I descend,’ ‘I give back life’ – those
tend to be the things that I go to…these are the big focal points.”
86
Whitman divided his
poem, “The Voice of the Rain,” into 10 lines, but it is essentially one, long sentence.
Maggio’s compositional process begins in a very auditory way (speaking, hearing the text
repeatedly). Without the visual image of the poem, divided into its 10 lines, the
composer perceived a different organizing principle structuring the text, and built his
musical form around that instead.
Steven Sametz, whose compositional process appears to be the least structured of
the group, also mentioned the natural connection between musical and poetic form.
Although his process is “very intuitive,” he said that, “musical structures tend to arise out
of the poetry.”
87
Clearly, all of the composers are aware of poetic structure, albeit in
different ways. They all use imagery as a basis for musical structure. And, the

85
Ibid., 235.

86
Maggio, interview, 216.

87
Sametz, interview.

33
interviews also suggest that the compositional process has an impact on the way a
composition reflects the form of a poetic text.
34
Chapter 3
Robert Maggio

The graphic scansion included below, and with all subsequent poetic analyses in
this study, is that of the author. As mentioned in the Introduction, poetic scansion is
highly dependent upon the patterns of word stress natural to the individual creating it.
The value of the process lies in the creation of a visual approximation of accentual
patterns, rather than a precise catalog of them.

Poetic Analysis: “I Hear America Singing”

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
1 I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

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

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
3 The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

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

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
5 The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deck-hand singing on

˘ / ˘ /
the steamboat deck,

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

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
7 The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon
35

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
intermission or at sundown,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
8 The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘
sewing or washing,

/ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / /
9 Each singing what belongs to [him or] her and to none else,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ /
10 The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust,

/ ˘
friendly,

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
11 Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

Whitman’s “I Hear America Singing” has long been popular with composers.
John Wannamaker, in his exhaustive 1970 survey of Whitman settings, lists ten different
compositions drawing upon the poem; Michael Hovland’s 1986 Musical Settings of
American Poetry: A Bibliography lists two more. The current study adds an additional
two to the list: one setting by Robert Maggio, and another by Nico Muhly, as part of his
larger work, Expecting the Main Things from You. The poem was first published in the
third (1860) edition of Leaves of Grass. It actually contains the first appearance of the
word “America” in the Leaves: a rather surprising fact given the deeply patriotic tenor of
Whitman’s ideological perspective.
88
It also expresses Whitman’s idealistic hopes for

88
Williams, 68-69, 73.

36
American democracy: “It depicts a nation of artisans and manual workers united in
unalienated labor; the custom of singing at work becomes both a literal sign of contented
activity and a new version of the traditional metaphor of social harmony.”
89

The body of this poem consists of one of Whitman’s catalogs. This technique is
eminently suited to Whitman’s philosophical program: it simultaneously expresses the
centrality of the individual through a focus on fine detail, and bestows upon the
individual person or experience a broad, universal significance. In this case, Whitman’s
litany embodies this expansive, organic ideal by becoming progressively more complex.
Line 2 begins with unity by referencing mechanics whose songs are all “blithe and
strong.” In the next line, an element of diversity is introduced with the carpenter who
sings while measuring his “plank or beam [emphasis added].” This divergence is built
upon further in line 4, with the mason who sings “as he makes ready for work, or leaves
off work [emphasis added].” In line 5, Whitman includes two different tradesmen: the
boatman and the deckhand, one “in his boat [emphasis added],” the other “on the
steamboat deck [emphasis added].” This process continues through line 8, which
contains the three female characters of the mother, the young wife and the girl (“sewing
or washing [emphasis added]”). The expansive quality of the litany is therefore
highlighted by both the gradual addition of more characters (all individuals) in each line,
as well as the persistent expression of dualities or divisions. It is important that the
shoemaker in line 6 “sits,” while the hatter “stands”; likewise, the ploughboy’s day (line

89
Lawrence Kramer, ed., Walt Whitman and Modern Music: War, Desire, and the Trials of Nationhood
(New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 2000), 162.

37
7) is cleanly partitioned into “morning,” “noon,” and “sundown.” All of this conveys a
sense of complexity governed by an overarching, natural law. Each individual is
distinctly differentiated, but all are unified by the universal act of “singing.”
The catalog ends at line 9 with the cumulative statement, “Each singing what
belongs to him or her and to none else.” The double accent on the first two and last two
syllables of the line (“each singing” and “none else”) disrupts and slows the metric tempo
of the poem. The symmetry recalls that of “I hear” used at the beginning and end of line
1. The poem closes with one final duality: day versus night. What “belongs to the day”
(line 10) is all of the work celebrated in the previous lines of the poem; likewise, the day
is when individuals work in isolation, separated by invisible but impermeable boundaries.
At night, such boundaries disappear. Rather than a solitary reveler, there is a “party of
young fellows.” They are “friendly,” a term that highlights social interaction, the
establishment of emotional bonds between individuals; their mouths are “open,”
suggesting reciprocity, openness to experience, even vulnerability. And, instead of each
singing his own solitary song, in line 11 these men sing “their strong melodious songs
[emphasis added]” together.
This poem also displays Whitman’s masterful, expressive use of meter. Strings of
unaccented syllables (phyrrics), such as those found in line 7, increase the metrical pace
or tempo of the text, thereby imparting the sensation of “rapidity, lightness or ease”:
90

90
Fussell, 35.

38
˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
7 The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
intermission or at sundown,

In this poem, phyrrics contribute to the sense of activity and physical movement
described in detail in lines 2 through 8, and they become more common as the litany of
work “songs” becomes progressively more complex, preventing the complexity from
becoming overwhelming or pedantic. Successive stressed syllables (spondees), on the
other hand, slow the metrical tempo, and are typically used to impart a sense of
“slowness, weight, or difficulty.”
91
Whitman uses spondees in lines 2 and 9 to
emphatically stress the individuality of each person and his or her “song”:
/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
2 Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

/ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / /
9 Each singing what belongs to [him or] her and to none else,

In the overall form of “I Hear America Singing,” these two lines enclose the poetic
catalog like bookends. In this way, Whitman uses meter to reinforce the formal structure
of the text. His metrical choices are also expressive; the dense concentration of accents
in line 2 beautifully evokes the muscular, percussive song of the mechanic (see above).
Whitman also establishes (and breaks) metrical patterns in order to convey meaning.
Paul Fussell classifies this as one type of metrical variation that “implies a sudden
movement, often of discovery or illumination; or a new direction of thought, a new tone

91
Ibid.

39
of voice, or a change or intensification of poetic address.”
92
In “I Hear America
Singing,” line 9 stands out with particular clarity because the unexpected accent on the
first syllable (see above) follows six successive lines (lines 3-8) beginning with an
unaccented syllable. In this case, the reversal of an established metrical pattern signals
the end of the catalog, and a transition to the final, more introspective lines of the poem.
Line 10 provides another illustration of Whitman’s use of metrical variation. After the
metrical tempo is pulled to an abrupt halt by the spondee at the end of line 9 (“none
else”), line 10 begins with a strikingly regular series of iambic and anapestic rhythms,
only to hit a wonderful trochee on the word “fellows,” followed by an iamb (“robust”),
and then another trochee (“friendly”):
˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / || ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘
10 The day | what belongs | to the day—at night | the par | ty of young | fellows,

˘ / / ˘
robust, | friendly,

As a result of the combination of these metrical variations and the medial caesura,
93
this
poetic line contrasts the regular, natural flow of work during the day with the very
different kind of “singing” that belongs to the night. It is at night that people – still
distinct individuals – join together to sing communal songs, and contrasting poetic feet
co-exist harmoniously side by side. In a poem of free verse like this one, which on first
encounter appears loose and unstructured, these subtle elements of word stress and
repetition lend a surprising degree of coherence.

92
Ibid.

93
Fussell, 23. An “extrametrical pause” occurring in the middle of a poetic line.

40
Musical Analysis: I Hear America Singing
Robert Maggio’s setting of this famous Whitman poem for a cappella mixed
chorus was commissioned in 2004 by the Reading Choral Society and its Music Director,
David DeVenney, to mark the ensemble’s 130
th
anniversary. The composition
demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of the poetic text on multiple levels:
structural, thematic, and linguistic. In his interview, the composer noted that the
rhythmic intensity of the setting was inspired in part by the classic musical theater form
of the “list song,”
94
which bears some resemblance to Whitman’s catalog style: “I Hear
America Singing is an…industrious setting of the text. It gets in there, it starts chugging
away, and it just keeps going.”
95

The piece is comprised of seven primary sections:

Table 3A. Formal Structure of Maggio: I Hear America Singing

Poetic Dominant
Section Meter Key line texture/feature Function

1 mm.1-13 4/4 A major 1 fanfare introduction

2 mm.14-49 6/8 unclear 2, 3, 4, 5 solo/accomp. catalog (day)

3 mm.50-60 6/8 unclear 1 “I hear” melody “chorus”

4 mm.61-99 6/8 unclear 6, 7, 8 homophonic catalog (day)

5 mm.100-109 6/8 unclear 1 “I hear” melody “chorus”

6 mm.110-160 6/8 unclear 9, 10, 11 solo/accomp. day night

7 mm.161-177 4/4 D major 1 / 11 fanfare conclusion

94
A song whose text is partially or entirely in the format of a list.

95
Maggio, interview, 214.

Section 1 presents the text of poetic line 1 as a robust fanfare in 4/4 time. The stacked
entrances, as well as the additive phrase structure (“I hear”
America singing”) support the potent textual image of diversity within uni

Figure 3A. Maggio: I Hear America Singing
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

The repetition of the word “singing” also highlights the force behind this unity: song
although it is not a literal but a metaphorical song. Measure 14 marks a distinct shift; the
Section 1 presents the text of poetic line 1 as a robust fanfare in 4/4 time. The stacked
entrances, as well as the additive phrase structure (“I hear” – “I hear America”
America singing”) support the potent textual image of diversity within uni
I Hear America Singing, mm.1-12
I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
The repetition of the word “singing” also highlights the force behind this unity: song
although it is not a literal but a metaphorical song. Measure 14 marks a distinct shift; the
41
Section 1 presents the text of poetic line 1 as a robust fanfare in 4/4 time. The stacked
“I hear America” – “I hear
America singing”) support the potent textual image of diversity within unity:

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
The repetition of the word “singing” also highlights the force behind this unity: song –
although it is not a literal but a metaphorical song. Measure 14 marks a distinct shift; the

meter changes to an active 6/8, and the harmonic content is far less stab
text of the catalog, starting with line 2, appears at m.17.

Figure 3B. Maggio: I Hear America Singing
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

As table 3A demonstrates
between sections 2 and 4 of the piece, while the closing lines of the poem (lines 9
appear in section 6. Sections 3 and 5 serve as the “chorus,” bringing the piece back to the
celebratory mood and text of poetic line 1 at regular intervals. A common melody also
defines these sections:

Figure 3C. Maggio: I Hear America Singing

Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing
meter changes to an active 6/8, and the harmonic content is far less stable or clear. The
text of the catalog, starting with line 2, appears at m.17.
I Hear America Singing, mm.17-21
I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
As table 3A demonstrates, the catalog (contained in poetic lines 2-8) is split fairly evenly
between sections 2 and 4 of the piece, while the closing lines of the poem (lines 9
appear in section 6. Sections 3 and 5 serve as the “chorus,” bringing the piece back to the
atory mood and text of poetic line 1 at regular intervals. A common melody also
I Hear America Singing, mm.50-54, soprano & alto

I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
42
le or clear. The

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
8) is split fairly evenly
between sections 2 and 4 of the piece, while the closing lines of the poem (lines 9-11)
appear in section 6. Sections 3 and 5 serve as the “chorus,” bringing the piece back to the
atory mood and text of poetic line 1 at regular intervals. A common melody also

maggio.net, 2004).
43
This structural feature breaks up the potential monotony of the catalog, according the
musical form a sense of balance and proportion. Section 7 completes the end of poetic
line 11, and reprises the text and thematic material of section 1, including the 4/4 time
signature. This formal arrangement as a whole highlights the centrality of the first line of
text; musically, it functions not only as a structural feature, but as the thematic core of the
setting.
The resulting musical form is almost symmetrical. Meter, text, and thematic
material connect sections 1 and 7 – also the two sections most securely in a clear
harmonic key. Texture connects sections 2 and 6: both prominently feature a solo-
accompaniment style in which a melodic line carried by one vocal section is supported by
ostinato patterns in others. Sections 3 and 5 serve as the “chorus,” with similar text,
melodic content, and transitional function. Section 4 alone features a substantial amount
of four-part, homophonic writing. Maggio would perhaps have been more explicitly true
to the text if he had set the entire catalog in the solo – accompaniment style of section 2
(emphasizing the isolation of the individual working alongside a multitude of similarly
isolated workers), but the composer finds other ways to preserve the formal unity of the
original poem.
Poetry conveys distilled layers of meaning through structure, word choice, syntax,
and meter.
96
The medium of music can transmit similarly complex content because of its
numerous constituent parts: pitch, rhythm, melody, harmony, texture, articulation – not to
mention text. While Maggio’s I Hear America Singing does on one level impose a more

96
Fussell, 89.

44
balanced formal structure on a less symmetrical poem, the composer’s musical choices
capitalize on this intrinsic complexity to present a nuanced interpretation of the text.
Sections 2 and 4 provide an interesting example. While connected by textual content
(between them, they contain the catalog of poetic lines 2-8), the sections are texturally
distinct. Section 2 is defined by a solo-accompaniment texture in which one vocal part
carries the melody line (and the text), supported by a harmonically static ostinato part in
one or more other voice parts (see fig. 3B). Each section in the chorus has its turn to lead
with a “solo” melody, an appropriately egalitarian presentation of the text. Each new
ostinato permutation also borrows text from the previous “solo” line. As previously
mentioned, this distinctive texture realizes musically the textual image of the individual
worker laboring among the multitudes. The section 3 “chorus” also separates section 2
from section 4. As Maggio explained in his interview, the use of sections 3 and 5 to
break up the catalog was a calculated choice designed to avoid monotony.
97
The
significant shift in texture between sections 2 and 4 may likewise have been driven by
musical rather than textural or expressive concerns. However, section 4 is not so starkly
different from section 2 as it first appears. Mm.61-62 are clearly homophonic, but all
voice parts are static except for the tenor, marked “to the fore” in the score:

97
Maggio, interview, 214.

Figure 3D. Maggio: I Hear America Singing
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

This produces an effect rather similar to the solo
Likewise, the repeated eighth
77 in section 5) recalls the ostinato patterns of section 2. Taking these textural
connections into account, Maggio’s approach is less a differentiation of poetic lines 2
and 6-8 than a progressive shift from solo
over the course of sections 2
developing with each new entry in Whitman’s litany of workers. It also offsets the
repetitive quality of the text with greater musical
Section 6 likewise demonstrates Maggio’s ability to musically reflect the inner
structure of the poem while sustaining its overall sense of continuity. This section
features poetic lines 9-11. As discussed in the poetic analysis, line 9 (“Each
belongs to him or her and to none else”) is a pivot point in the text. It marks the end of
the catalog (lines 2-8), while introducing the closing comparison of day versus night
I Hear America Singing, mm.60-65
I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
This produces an effect rather similar to the solo-accompaniment texture of section 2.
Likewise, the repeated eighth-note pulse in the men’s voices in m.64 (as well as mm.75
77 in section 5) recalls the ostinato patterns of section 2. Taking these textural
connections into account, Maggio’s approach is less a differentiation of poetic lines 2
8 than a progressive shift from solo-accompaniment to SATB homophonic texture
over the course of sections 2-4. This effectively illustrates the growing unity of “song”
developing with each new entry in Whitman’s litany of workers. It also offsets the
repetitive quality of the text with greater musical variety.
Section 6 likewise demonstrates Maggio’s ability to musically reflect the inner
structure of the poem while sustaining its overall sense of continuity. This section
11. As discussed in the poetic analysis, line 9 (“Each
belongs to him or her and to none else”) is a pivot point in the text. It marks the end of
8), while introducing the closing comparison of day versus night
45

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
accompaniment texture of section 2.
in m.64 (as well as mm.75-
77 in section 5) recalls the ostinato patterns of section 2. Taking these textural
connections into account, Maggio’s approach is less a differentiation of poetic lines 2-5
t to SATB homophonic texture
4. This effectively illustrates the growing unity of “song”
developing with each new entry in Whitman’s litany of workers. It also offsets the
Section 6 likewise demonstrates Maggio’s ability to musically reflect the inner
structure of the poem while sustaining its overall sense of continuity. This section
11. As discussed in the poetic analysis, line 9 (“Each singing what
belongs to him or her and to none else”) is a pivot point in the text. It marks the end of
8), while introducing the closing comparison of day versus night

(lines 10-11). Although it is separated from line 8 by section
the line 9 text with a solo

Figure 3E. Maggio: I Hear America Singing
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

The text is repeated four times: first by the sopranos, then the tenors; then the altos, and
finally by the basses, each time supported by accompanying ostinato patterns in the other
voice parts. In addition to presenting the sense of the poe
way, Maggio thus musically connects the opening and closing lines of the poetic catalog.
In contrast to line 9, lines 10
writing reminiscent of section 4. Maggio clearly
11, just as he differentiate lines 2
response to the poetic structure. Line 9 of the poem summarizes the catalog; it is distinct
from it, but refers back to it. So,
other hand, move on from the activities of the day, to the more social “songs” of the
11). Although it is separated from line 8 by section 5 (a “chorus”), Maggio sets
the line 9 text with a solo-accompaniment texture similar to that heard in section 2:
I Hear America Singing, mm.110-116
I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.
The text is repeated four times: first by the sopranos, then the tenors; then the altos, and
finally by the basses, each time supported by accompanying ostinato patterns in the other
voice parts. In addition to presenting the sense of the poetic text in a very meaningful
way, Maggio thus musically connects the opening and closing lines of the poetic catalog.
In contrast to line 9, lines 10-11 are set with consistent SATB homophonic/polyphonic
writing reminiscent of section 4. Maggio clearly delineates poetic line 9 from lines 10
11, just as he differentiate lines 2-5 from lines 6-8. This is a clever and insightful
response to the poetic structure. Line 9 of the poem summarizes the catalog; it is distinct
from it, but refers back to it. So, too, in the musical setting. Lines 10 and 11, on the
other hand, move on from the activities of the day, to the more social “songs” of the
46
5 (a “chorus”), Maggio sets
accompaniment texture similar to that heard in section 2:

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
The text is repeated four times: first by the sopranos, then the tenors; then the altos, and
finally by the basses, each time supported by accompanying ostinato patterns in the other
tic text in a very meaningful
way, Maggio thus musically connects the opening and closing lines of the poetic catalog.
11 are set with consistent SATB homophonic/polyphonic
delineates poetic line 9 from lines 10-
8. This is a clever and insightful
response to the poetic structure. Line 9 of the poem summarizes the catalog; it is distinct
too, in the musical setting. Lines 10 and 11, on the
other hand, move on from the activities of the day, to the more social “songs” of the
47
night, just as the workers of poetic lines 6-8 in Maggio’s setting progressively sing more
and more in time together.
On a smaller scale, Robert Maggio’s I Hear America Singing also contains
numerous examples of sensitive text setting. The work begins with a grand, celebratory
opening, full of musical imagery of growth and expansion. Virtually every phrase in the
first thirteen measures ends with a sustained, thick chord, sung by the full chorus (see fig.
3A.) Likewise, almost every phrase expands in terms of pitch range; when it does not, as
in m.6-8, the trajectory of the phrase rises unambiguously – another potent symbol of
growth. The first three musical phrases also begin with stacked entrances, each vocal
section building upon the last. The text receives similar treatment. The chorus sings, “I
hear,” followed by “I hear America,” and then, “I hear America singing.” Another
example of this additive approach to phrasing occurs in m.8-11. The word “singing”
appears four times in succession: in m.8 and m.9, the first syllable of the word is sung on
an eighth-note; in m.10 it expands to a dotted-quarter note, and in m.11, a half-note. All
of this wonderful musical play upon the idea of expansion conveys the sense of the text
beautifully, and foreshadows the expanding catalog of workers soon to come. The
expansion conveys an organic sense of inevitability that is very much in keeping with
Whitman’s poetic and philosophical ideals. Whitman “wanted to work like Nature
herself, composing not by conscious design within traditional patterns, but letting [his]
literary work grow organically like leaves and fruit on a tree, nourished by some
miraculous spiritual energy.”
98
Maggio’s extensive experience in musical theater is also

98
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 115.

in evidence. This technique of achieving forward progress through slow accumulation
builds up dramatic tension quickly. By the time the chor
“singing” repetitions in m.12, the rapid conclusion of the first line of poetic text, “the
varied carols I hear,” comes as a welcome relief, and serves as a powerful springboard
into the next section of the piece.
In section 4 (mm.69
“the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown” with
both texture and harmony:

Figure 3F. Maggio: I Hear America Singing
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

In mm.73-74, the ploughboy virtually skips to work through the energetic vocal runs in
the top three parts. In mm.75
the E pedal, the more static melody line in the alto part, and the slowly incre
rhythmic values combine to suggest a ploughboy who is beginning to tire by the mid
break. Mm.78-80 beautifully convey the relaxed contentedness of the walk home at the

in evidence. This technique of achieving forward progress through slow accumulation
builds up dramatic tension quickly. By the time the chorus reaches the end of the
“singing” repetitions in m.12, the rapid conclusion of the first line of poetic text, “the
varied carols I hear,” comes as a welcome relief, and serves as a powerful springboard
into the next section of the piece.
.69-80), Maggio brings to life the daily trinity in Whitman’s text,
“the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown” with
both texture and harmony:
I Hear America Singing, mm.71-78

I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
74, the ploughboy virtually skips to work through the energetic vocal runs in
the top three parts. In mm.75-77, the sustained dissonance of the C/F-sharp tritone over
the E pedal, the more static melody line in the alto part, and the slowly incre
rhythmic values combine to suggest a ploughboy who is beginning to tire by the mid
80 beautifully convey the relaxed contentedness of the walk home at the

48
in evidence. This technique of achieving forward progress through slow accumulation
us reaches the end of the
“singing” repetitions in m.12, the rapid conclusion of the first line of poetic text, “the
varied carols I hear,” comes as a welcome relief, and serves as a powerful springboard
80), Maggio brings to life the daily trinity in Whitman’s text,
“the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown” with

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
74, the ploughboy virtually skips to work through the energetic vocal runs in
sharp tritone over
the E pedal, the more static melody line in the alto part, and the slowly increasing
rhythmic values combine to suggest a ploughboy who is beginning to tire by the mid-day
80 beautifully convey the relaxed contentedness of the walk home at the

end of a hard day’s work, with longer note values, a homophonic texture, and
second-inversion A-flat major harmony. While these three parts of the ploughboy’s day
are clearly defined in the poetic text, Maggio’s musical setting adds greater depth to the
textual expression. We cannot know if this is how Whitman conceived
Maggio’s interpretation offers both a logical extension and a vivid interpretation of the
poetic meaning.
One final example of the significant connection between text, music, and meaning
in I Hear America Singing
section 7 reverts to the 4/4 meter and emphatic, stacked entrances of the work’s opening.
Interestingly, however, as the piece draws to a close in its final nine measures, the
phrases become progressively shorter: “Their
songs” – “melodious songs”

Figure 3G. Maggio: I Hear America Singing
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

end of a hard day’s work, with longer note values, a homophonic texture, and
flat major harmony. While these three parts of the ploughboy’s day
are clearly defined in the poetic text, Maggio’s musical setting adds greater depth to the
textual expression. We cannot know if this is how Whitman conceived of his text, but
Maggio’s interpretation offers both a logical extension and a vivid interpretation of the
One final example of the significant connection between text, music, and meaning
I Hear America Singing occurs at the end of the piece. As previously discussed,
section 7 reverts to the 4/4 meter and emphatic, stacked entrances of the work’s opening.
Interestingly, however, as the piece draws to a close in its final nine measures, the
phrases become progressively shorter: “Their strong melodious songs” –
“melodious songs” – “songs” – “songs”.
I Hear America Singing, mm.166-177
I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
49
end of a hard day’s work, with longer note values, a homophonic texture, and the lush,
flat major harmony. While these three parts of the ploughboy’s day
are clearly defined in the poetic text, Maggio’s musical setting adds greater depth to the
of his text, but
Maggio’s interpretation offers both a logical extension and a vivid interpretation of the
One final example of the significant connection between text, music, and meaning
e piece. As previously discussed,
section 7 reverts to the 4/4 meter and emphatic, stacked entrances of the work’s opening.
Interestingly, however, as the piece draws to a close in its final nine measures, the
“melodious

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).

Figure 3G, Continued
Source: Robert Maggio, I Hear America Singing

This reversal of the additive technique employed in section 1 counters expansion with
contraction and distillation. This musical metaphor creates a
itself, but more importantly it conveys the poet’s ideal of unity within diversity. The
composer also achieves a circular sense of closure in his setting by combining the first
half of poetic line 1 – “I hear America singing”
strong melodious songs.” The diurnal cycle of day and night is as wonderful and
inevitable as the endless activities and personal connections sustaining human existence
in Whitman’s idealistic, democratic America.
unity and interconnectedness through his musical setting of the poem, adding his own
rich interpretation of the text to its expression in musical form.

I Hear America Singing (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
This reversal of the additive technique employed in section 1 counters expansion with
contraction and distillation. This musical metaphor creates a satisfying form in and of
itself, but more importantly it conveys the poet’s ideal of unity within diversity. The
composer also achieves a circular sense of closure in his setting by combining the first
“I hear America singing” – with the second half of line 11
strong melodious songs.” The diurnal cycle of day and night is as wonderful and
inevitable as the endless activities and personal connections sustaining human existence
in Whitman’s idealistic, democratic America. Maggio manages to capture this ideal of
unity and interconnectedness through his musical setting of the poem, adding his own
rich interpretation of the text to its expression in musical form.

50

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2004).
This reversal of the additive technique employed in section 1 counters expansion with
satisfying form in and of
itself, but more importantly it conveys the poet’s ideal of unity within diversity. The
composer also achieves a circular sense of closure in his setting by combining the first
with the second half of line 11 – “their
strong melodious songs.” The diurnal cycle of day and night is as wonderful and
inevitable as the endless activities and personal connections sustaining human existence
Maggio manages to capture this ideal of
unity and interconnectedness through his musical setting of the poem, adding his own
51
Poetic Analysis: “The Voice of the Rain”

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
1 And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,

/ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘
2 Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
3 I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
4 Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
5 Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed, and yet the same,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
6 I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
7 And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / /
8 And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, and make pure

˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘
and beautify it;

˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
9 (For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment, wandering,

/ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
10 Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)

Whitman’s friend, the naturalist John Burroughs, said that Whitman was “not
merely an observer of Nature but is immersed in her,” his poems “approximate to a direct
52
utterance of Nature herself.”
99
“The Voice of the Rain” is part of the poet’s later output;
it first appeared in an 1885 volume of poetry and prose, November Boughs, and was
included in the 1891-1892 edition of Leaves of Grass in the section titled, “Sands at
Seventy.” Many critics agree that Whitman’s innovative brilliance began to decline after
the publication of the third edition of Leaves of Grass in 1860, “with a brief revival in the
summer of 1865 while composing ‘When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.’”
100
If
“The Voice of the Rain” lacks the vitality of Whitman’s earlier work, it nevertheless
offers a rich palette of poetic imagery, and a satisfyingly balanced formal structure. In
the two-line introduction, the poet sets up the trope of author masquerading as reporter
rather than originator. This is in keeping with Whitman’s own self-conception as a
“…pagan-prophet…[who] mediates between nature and humanity.”
101
The main section
of text is comprised of lines 3-8, while the last two lines are a final aside, or – to draw a
musical parallel – a coda, offering commentary on the main gist of the poem. Ostensibly,
the main section of the poem describes the water cycle, albeit in a vivid, compelling way.
More important, though, are the connections Whitman draws between water, poetry,
song, life, and love. In line 3, the voice of the rain identifies itself as a “poem”; in line 8,
the rain is connected to “life”; in line 9, a parallel analogy connects “rain” with “song”;
and in line 10, the “song” returns to its “own origin” with “love.” The central image of

99
John Burroughs, quoted in M. Jimmie Killingsworth, Walt Whitman and the Earth: A Study in
Ecopoetics, Iowa Whitman Series (Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 2004), 92.

100
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 97.

101
Christopher Nield, “A Reading of ‘The Voice of the Rain’ by Walt Whitman,” Epoch Times, August 27
– September 2, 2009, under “The Antidote – Classic Poetry for Modern Life,” http://bogobooks.com/a-
reading-of-the-voice-of-the-rain-by-walt-whitman.html [accessed September 9, 2011].

53
the water cycle – a natural phenomenon that few others might have considered
appropriate inspiration for poetry – connects all of these broader concepts and unifies
them into a cohesive whole. The water cycle represents what is natural, inevitable, and
beyond human control or complete comprehension – like the cycle of life and death, the
force of love, the transformative expression of song, and the inestimable power of poetry.
A common feature of poetry in general, the expressive use of sound, rhythm and
syntax is central to Whitman’s style.
102
His language expresses meaning not just through
textual imagery, but through the sound of the words themselves.
103
In line 1 of “The
Voice of the Rain,” the closely-packed series of aspirated consonants in the phrase “soft-
falling shower” invoke the sound of rain. In lines 2 and 3, Whitman contrasts irregular
and regular metrical patterns to define the two individuals in the poem. The narrator in
line 2 speaks in a natural, informal way, and his language consequently contains a wide
range of metrical patterns. The striking metrical regularity of line 3, on the other hand,
imbues the voice of the rain with a formal and somewhat otherworldly grandeur:
/ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘
2 Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
3 I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,

The relative abundance of unstressed syllables in line 3 is sustained through the
remainder of the text, giving the entire poem a sense of lightness and buoyancy. Soft
consonants, voiced and unvoiced, also dominate the sonic quality of the poem; phrases

102
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 160.

103
Williams, 104.

54
such as “to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d” (line 5), “to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-
layers” (line 6), and “song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment” (line 9)
contribute to the richness of the textual imagery by virtue of their acoustic characteristics.

Musical Analysis: The Voice of the Rain
Robert Maggio set Whitman’s “The Voice of the Rain” for 8-part mixed choir,
two pianos, two vibraphones, two glockenspiels, and percussion. This unusual
instrumentation arose from the fact that the piece was to be premiered on the same
program as Orff’s Carmina Burana. The available instrumental forces and the need to
partner effectively with Orff’s celebrated work inspired the choice of text. In the
composer’s words: “I knew for sure that I didn’t want my piece to compete with Carmina
Burana in any way, it being this famous, warhorse kind of a piece. So, it seemed to me
that the direction to go would be to write something quite different in musical style and
language. This piece took on almost a dreamlike quality…”
104
In Maggio’s setting, the
instrumental parts function independently of the vocal lines, in a supportive role. The
instrumentation also provides an effective musical realization of Whitman’s “soft-falling
shower”; everything is percussive – even the pianos – but gently and sonorously so. The
vocal parts, in contrast, feature simple, lyrical melodic lines, and layers of sustained tone
clusters. Overall, the contrasting approaches to instrumental and vocal writing set up two
complimentary roles: the chorus as the narrator of the poem, as well as the “voice of the
rain” as anthropomorphically conceived by Whitman; the instruments as the actual rain.

104
Maggio, interview, 212.

55
Thus, this key distinction – between the natural phenomenon and the mystical truth it
represents to the poet – is laid out in the fundamental musical structure of the piece.
There are 14 distinct sections within The Voice of the Rain, most defined by a
shift in key and instrumental texture, and by text and thematic material in the choral parts
(see table 3B). The piece begins and ends with a key signature of F major, although in
reality the mode is closer to B-flat Lydian with a flatted 7
th
degree. In sections 5-12, the
combination of key signatures with the ever-present pedal tones in the piano parts
suggests a strong cast of Lydian mode throughout. However, the prominent initial pitch
in instrumental pattern A (and thus the scale outlined by the pattern), as well as the choral
parts, do not always strongly support this categorization. It may be most accurate to
describe the harmonic quality of each section as defined by a key area rather than a
specific mode or key. Regardless, the three prominent features of each section – the key
signature, the bass pedal tone, and the initial pitch of pattern A – combine to create a
distinct harmonic environment in each section of The Voice of the Rain. These regular
shifts in key area delineate textual transitions, but more importantly define a cyclical
form that mirrors the eternal cycle of water portrayed so vividly in the text. Putting the
first twelve introductory measures aside, the piece begins and ends with an identical pair
of key areas, defined by a key signature of one flat, and pedal tones of first B-flat
(sections 2 and 13) and then D (sections 3 and 14; both also include consistent F-sharp
accidentals, suggesting D Major with a flatted 6
th
degree). The unorthodox harmonic
content derives stability from a more traditional underlying musical form; like most tonal
music, Maggio’s setting establishes a home key, moves away from it, and in the end

56
56

57
returns. However, the harmonic shifts in this piece do not exploit the tonic – dominant –
subdominant relationships central to tonal music. Instead, the key area relationships are
more linear, moving in 2nds or 3rds. The shifts between key areas also generally move
higher in the first half of the piece (sections 1-8, particularly if you consider that the
downward leap of a major 6
th
in the pedal tone between sections 5 and 6 is, if inverted,
equivalent to a minor 3
rd
up), and lower in the second half (sections 9-13; note that the
upward minor 7
th
shift between pedal tones of sections 9 and 10 is, in inversion, a major
2
nd
downward). Finally, consider that the key area with a single-flat key signature and F
pedal tone appears in Section 9, as well as sections 2 and 13; it coincides with line 6, “I
descend to lave the drouths…,” an important transition point in the poetic text. Maggio
has created a musical form that mirrors the rich imagery of the poem, outlining a circular
shape analogous to the cycle of water, rising up to the heavens and then falling back to
earth. However, Maggio’s sensitive use of harmony as an expressive tool goes further
than this. The lack of clear key centers, as well as the absence of traditional tonal key
relationships, conveys a sense of other-worldliness that is a perfect complement to the
mystical quality of the text. Whereas a more traditional harmonic system would have
conveyed a sense of logic and clarity at odds with the poetry, the more subtle harmonic
palette utilized by Maggio is an ideal complement to the flexible, variable quality of
Whitman’s verse, and the multivalent meanings expressed through it.
In addition to harmony, three basic thematic elements in the instrumental parts,
presented in numerous permutations and shifted between instruments from section to
section, define the musical structure. Pattern A descends in small intervals (2
nd
s, 3
rd
s,

4
th
s), often including a mix of upward and downward movement within the overall
downward trajectory:

Figure 3H. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

Pattern B begins with a low pedal tone and then rises, often in larger intervals (octaves,
5
th
s, 4
th
s) and often outlining an arpeggiated chord:

Figure 3J. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

Pattern C is a melodically static, repetitive rhythmic pattern:

Figure 3K. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain
s), often including a mix of upward and downward movement within the overall
The Voice of the Rain, mm.1-6, piano 1, right hand
The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
Pattern B begins with a low pedal tone and then rises, often in larger intervals (octaves,
s) and often outlining an arpeggiated chord:
The Voice of the Rain, mm.36-39, piano 2, left hand

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
Pattern C is a melodically static, repetitive rhythmic pattern:
The Voice of the Rain, mm.64-67, vibraphones 1 & 2

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
58
s), often including a mix of upward and downward movement within the overall

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
Pattern B begins with a low pedal tone and then rises, often in larger intervals (octaves,

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
67, vibraphones 1 & 2
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
59
From these three basic musical ideas, Maggio derives endless variety. He noted in his
interview that The Voice of the Rain was “influenced by American minimalism in its
textural ideas, and all of those really closely knit cannons and processes - very elemental
shapes – all slowly transformed.”
105
He was inspired both by the instrumentation, (“I am
given two pianos and four percussion instruments for this commission. Now, that is a
Steve Reich ensemble. It’s a kind-of bizarre, minimalist ensemble with all of these
matching colors of everything.”) and the fact that one of the commissioners worked at
Nonesuch Records, a major source of minimalist recordings.
106
Maggio’s typical
compositional style is, in his words, more “romantic,” so The Voice of the Rain provided
an interesting intellectual challenge: “For me, it was really useful to try to rein myself in
like that. I was trying to limit myself in textures and lines.”
107
The texture in the work
varies with each section of the music, and varies somewhat within each section, but
overall is indeed very consistent. In the first section of the piece, all of the instrumental
parts are derived from pattern A. The opening statements of this theme are very static –
much like pattern C. Pattern B makes its first appearance in m.13, and then remains the
most consistent structural element throughout the piece – always in one or both of the
left-hand piano parts. Its pedal tone and arpeggiated structure make it a central element
in the harmonic structure of the piece, as well as a consistent thematic feature. These
three patterns also utilize the extreme registers of the instruments. The pedal tone of

105
Ibid., 217.

106
Ibid.

107
Ibid.

60
pattern B is typically in the lowest register of the pianos, while pattern A typically
appears in an extremely high range. In fact, the sounding pitches in the piano parts are
often so high as to be almost entirely obscured by the percussive clacking of the keys
themselves. Overall, the effect invokes the percussive quality of rain falling to earth,
while sustaining a sense of enormous space surrounding the voices carrying the text – as
if the voices, projecting a rich sonority as well as the text, are enclosed within a bubble of
percussive sound.
A comparison of the poetic structure and the musical structure reveals some
intriguing insights into the composer’s reading of the text. In the poem, the first two lines
function as an introduction – the question posed by the narrator to the shower of rain –
while the remainder of the text is the rain’s answer. Lines 9-10, a final parenthetical
aside, offer commentary on the meaning of the poem. In Maggio’s setting (see table 3B),
the compositional structure adheres quite closely to the structure of the poem, with some
interesting exceptions. Most obvious is the fact that while the textual syntax suggests a
clear delineation between lines 2 and 3, Maggio’s setting completely obscures this break,
replacing it with a more subtle one between lines 3 and 4. His choice is not arbitrary,
however. Poetic line 3 is part of the rain’s answer to the narrator, while the central
description of the water cycle begins in line 4. Maggio chooses to define the boundary
between conversation and action, rather than between the two distinct voices in the poem.
For him, the important structural points in the text are defined by action: “What is the
voice of the rain saying that it does? ‘I rise,’ ‘I descend,’ ‘I give back life’ – those tend to
61
be the things that I go to. The images are great. The other images around them are great,
too - but these are the big focal points.”
108

The distribution of text in The Voice of the Rain is for the most part
straightforward. Following a 12-measure instrumental introduction delicately initiating
the musical representation of rainfall, the chorus introduces the first line of text in m.13.
The final section of the piece combines the opening phrase of the poem with a reiteration
of its final three words. Thus, in terms of the primary presentation of the text, the action
occurs in sections 2-13. The sectional structure of the composition aligns much of the
time with the line structure of the poem, although even when the correlation is close,
Maggio frequently begins a new musical line slightly before or after a key shift, rather
than in exact alignment with it. This avoids clunky obviousness and reflects the free-
flowing quality of the text, but also allows the composer to use the key shifts to highlight
words occurring around these transition points, not just the first word of each poetic line.
For example, a pivotal key shift in m.106 coincides meaningfully with the word
“descend,” an important transition point in the textual imagery of the water cycle:

108
Ibid., 216.

Figure 3L. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice

One notable exception to the generally regular allotment of text occurs in sections 5
Maggio lingers obsessively on the first three words of line 5, “Upward to heaven,”
increasing the textural density with each repetition in sections 5
finally completed on the first beat of section 8, and the music winds down with gradually
extended repetitions of the ultimate phrase, “and yet the same.” This enormous emphasis
on line 5 of the text may relate to Maggio’s circular musical form. Line 5 contains the
last of the ascending imagery in the poetic text; likewise, section 8 is the culmination of
the rising harmonic movement in the musical form. Both herald the critical transiti
downward imagery and harmonic movement that gives both poem and musical work a
coherent structure. One other poetic line receives particular attention in Maggio’s
setting: line 8, “And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, an
make pure and beautify it.” The text is split between sections 11 and 12, allowing the
composer to place great emphasis on a portion of text in the
back life.” At the start of section 12, the chorus sings in thick, fortissim
The Voice of the Rain, mm.104-106, chorus

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
One notable exception to the generally regular allotment of text occurs in sections 5
Maggio lingers obsessively on the first three words of line 5, “Upward to heaven,”
l density with each repetition in sections 5-7. The poetic line is
finally completed on the first beat of section 8, and the music winds down with gradually
extended repetitions of the ultimate phrase, “and yet the same.” This enormous emphasis
of the text may relate to Maggio’s circular musical form. Line 5 contains the
last of the ascending imagery in the poetic text; likewise, section 8 is the culmination of
the rising harmonic movement in the musical form. Both herald the critical transiti
downward imagery and harmonic movement that gives both poem and musical work a
coherent structure. One other poetic line receives particular attention in Maggio’s
setting: line 8, “And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, an
make pure and beautify it.” The text is split between sections 11 and 12, allowing the
composer to place great emphasis on a portion of text in the middle of the line: “I give
back life.” At the start of section 12, the chorus sings in thick, fortissimo block chords:
62
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
One notable exception to the generally regular allotment of text occurs in sections 5-8.
Maggio lingers obsessively on the first three words of line 5, “Upward to heaven,”
7. The poetic line is
finally completed on the first beat of section 8, and the music winds down with gradually
extended repetitions of the ultimate phrase, “and yet the same.” This enormous emphasis
of the text may relate to Maggio’s circular musical form. Line 5 contains the
last of the ascending imagery in the poetic text; likewise, section 8 is the culmination of
the rising harmonic movement in the musical form. Both herald the critical transition to
downward imagery and harmonic movement that gives both poem and musical work a
coherent structure. One other poetic line receives particular attention in Maggio’s
setting: line 8, “And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin, and
make pure and beautify it.” The text is split between sections 11 and 12, allowing the
of the line: “I give
o block chords:

Figure 3M. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain

Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain
The Voice of the Rain, mm.139-147
The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
63

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).

Figure 3M, Continued

Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
64

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
65
The high tessitura of the voices, and the percussive swell of the instrumental
accompaniment clearly mark this as a dramatic high point, and the key shift from F
Lydian to E-flat Lydian further strengthens the sense of real arrival at this point.
Interestingly, in his interview the composer noted this focus on the middle of poetic line 8
with some surprise: “There’s this huge, climactic thing that happens on, ‘I give back
life…’ I look at the poem, and it’s kind-of buried in the middle of the line. And yet in
my setting, that is practically in capitals and bold.”
109
Maggio concluded, however, that
he was drawn to that part of the text “just because that’s action.”
110
As discussed in
Chapter 2, Maggio habitually memorizes and repeatedly speaks aloud texts he is
preparing to set to music; without the visual line structure of the poem in front of him, he
was perhaps attuned to other elements of textual structure instead.
With the exception of the two preceding examples, the musical setting progresses
through each poetic line at an unhurried but fairly regular pace. The final two lines of
text, however, are treated rather differently. They are presented as a single line in section
13 (which is appropriate, considering how Whitman set them off with parentheses),
paired with a relatively straightforward, homophonic texture in the chorus parts, and an
extremely spare instrumental accompaniment. This sudden lightening of texture
emphasizes the text, and Maggio places particular weight on the word “song” by aligning
it with a key shift in m.162. If “I give back life” is the emotional high point of the work,
then this is perhaps the moment of enlightenment, understanding – achieved through

109
Ibid.

110
Ibid.

“song.” In his interview, M
Whitman is making here between nature and art. The music of nature. His poem itself is
a song. He’s writing a song that speaks about the voice of the rain
singing, nature’s voice. So he comes back here and talks about what nature does
returns…So, truly it’s really, really important.”
Large-scale form is a primary means of textual expression in Robert Maggio’s
The Voice of the Rain, but the composer does not
Perhaps most notable is Maggio’s use of texture within the choral parts. Most of the text
is set polyphonically, often in short melodic phrases introduced imitatively by successive
sections, as in mm.64-68:

Figure 3N. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain

Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

111
Ibid., 218.

“song.” In his interview, Maggio added, “I think that there’s an important distinction that
Whitman is making here between nature and art. The music of nature. His poem itself is
a song. He’s writing a song that speaks about the voice of the rain – the voice, nature
re’s voice. So he comes back here and talks about what nature does
returns…So, truly it’s really, really important.”
111

scale form is a primary means of textual expression in Robert Maggio’s
, but the composer does not neglect smaller-scale expressive details.
Perhaps most notable is Maggio’s use of texture within the choral parts. Most of the text
is set polyphonically, often in short melodic phrases introduced imitatively by successive
68:
The Voice of the Rain, mm.64-68, chorus
The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).

66
aggio added, “I think that there’s an important distinction that
Whitman is making here between nature and art. The music of nature. His poem itself is
the voice, nature
re’s voice. So he comes back here and talks about what nature does – how it
scale form is a primary means of textual expression in Robert Maggio’s
scale expressive details.
Perhaps most notable is Maggio’s use of texture within the choral parts. Most of the text
is set polyphonically, often in short melodic phrases introduced imitatively by successive

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).

The result is highly directional, conveying a sense of activity and inevitable forward
momentum that is very much in keeping with the central imagery of the text. When
Maggio sets lines homophonically, therefore, the effect is notable. At the beginning of
the piece, homophonic sections delineate words conveying action from the actual
dialogue of the narrator:

Figure 3P. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

In mm.57-58, Maggio sets the single word “impalpable” homophonically. This seems
contrary to the sense of the word, which can convey both something unable to be
discerned by touch or something not easily grasped by the mind (a duality of meaning
that Whitman was most certainly using purposefully), but it does set the word in stark
relief from those around it. This level of emphasis is not suggested by the metrical stress
of the text; Maggio feels this word is important to the
“Whitman emphasizes the strangeness of what we see. Words such as ‘impalpable,’
‘bottomless,’ and ‘vaguely’ suggest that, while our eyes record each flicker of reality, its
The result is highly directional, conveying a sense of activity and inevitable forward
s very much in keeping with the central imagery of the text. When
homophonically, therefore, the effect is notable. At the beginning of
the piece, homophonic sections delineate words conveying action from the actual
ator:
The Voice of the Rain, mm.20-27, chorus
The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
58, Maggio sets the single word “impalpable” homophonically. This seems
y to the sense of the word, which can convey both something unable to be
discerned by touch or something not easily grasped by the mind (a duality of meaning
that Whitman was most certainly using purposefully), but it does set the word in stark
those around it. This level of emphasis is not suggested by the metrical stress
of the text; Maggio feels this word is important to the sense of the text. Nields agrees:
“Whitman emphasizes the strangeness of what we see. Words such as ‘impalpable,’
ottomless,’ and ‘vaguely’ suggest that, while our eyes record each flicker of reality, its
67
The result is highly directional, conveying a sense of activity and inevitable forward
s very much in keeping with the central imagery of the text. When
homophonically, therefore, the effect is notable. At the beginning of
the piece, homophonic sections delineate words conveying action from the actual

(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
58, Maggio sets the single word “impalpable” homophonically. This seems
y to the sense of the word, which can convey both something unable to be
discerned by touch or something not easily grasped by the mind (a duality of meaning
that Whitman was most certainly using purposefully), but it does set the word in stark
those around it. This level of emphasis is not suggested by the metrical stress
of the text. Nields agrees:
“Whitman emphasizes the strangeness of what we see. Words such as ‘impalpable,’
ottomless,’ and ‘vaguely’ suggest that, while our eyes record each flicker of reality, its

true scope remains tantalizingly beyond our rational comprehension.”
setting is used for dramatic emphasis in mm.85
together to culminate a long, thick

Figure 3Q. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

In mm.95-105, the static, homophonic texture carrying the repeated text, “and yet the
same,” provides some plain
fortissimo block chords on “I give back life” in mm.141
text segment as the dramatic peak of the entire piece. In this way, Maggio utilizes texture
to highlight sentence structure, as well as critical words and phrases. It is an important
tool with which the composer imparts his interpretation of the text.

112
Nield.

true scope remains tantalizingly beyond our rational comprehension.”
112

setting is used for dramatic emphasis in mm.85-87, as the top three voice parts c
together to culminate a long, thick-textured rumination on the text, “upward to heaven”:
The Voice of the Rain, mm.85-87, chorus

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
105, the static, homophonic texture carrying the repeated text, “and yet the
same,” provides some plain-and-simple text painting. As previously discussed, thick,
fortissimo block chords on “I give back life” in mm.141-146 drive help to identify this
text segment as the dramatic peak of the entire piece. In this way, Maggio utilizes texture
to highlight sentence structure, as well as critical words and phrases. It is an important
tool with which the composer imparts his interpretation of the text.

68
A homophonic
87, as the top three voice parts come
textured rumination on the text, “upward to heaven”:
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
105, the static, homophonic texture carrying the repeated text, “and yet the
simple text painting. As previously discussed, thick,
146 drive help to identify this
text segment as the dramatic peak of the entire piece. In this way, Maggio utilizes texture
to highlight sentence structure, as well as critical words and phrases. It is an important

There are many examples of small
phrase in mm.61-64 carries the text, “and the bottomless sea,” and features a dramatic
downward leap of a 6
th
:

Figure 3R. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

While expressive in and of itself, the downward contour also provides a great contrast to
the ascending theme that follows, on the text “upward to heaven” (see fig. 3N)
of the staggered entrances in both examples, the meaning of the word is conveyed not just
in the shape of the melodic theme, but in the way it is distributed among the various
sections of the chorus.
here are many examples of small-scale text painting, as well. The melodic
64 carries the text, “and the bottomless sea,” and features a dramatic
The Voice of the Rain, mm.61-63, chorus

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
While expressive in and of itself, the downward contour also provides a great contrast to
the ascending theme that follows, on the text “upward to heaven” (see fig. 3N)
of the staggered entrances in both examples, the meaning of the word is conveyed not just
in the shape of the melodic theme, but in the way it is distributed among the various
69
scale text painting, as well. The melodic
64 carries the text, “and the bottomless sea,” and features a dramatic
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
While expressive in and of itself, the downward contour also provides a great contrast to
the ascending theme that follows, on the text “upward to heaven” (see fig. 3N). Because
of the staggered entrances in both examples, the meaning of the word is conveyed not just
in the shape of the melodic theme, but in the way it is distributed among the various

Maggio’s approach to the text also betrays
This is apparent at the very start of the piece. After a 12
expect to hear the chorus enter assertively on a strong beat, but Maggio instead marks the
start of section 2 with the B
2 of m.14. Consider how someone might saying the first phrase of the poem: “And who
art thou?” This is not only a question, but a salutation, and as such would naturally be
preceded by a moment of eye contact, perhaps a smile of greeting. The narrator needs a
moment to “see” the shower of rain, and wonder who it might be, before he can start the
poem. Maggio’s realization brings out this extremely subtle point in a brilliant way.
Another interesting example of sensitivity to language occurs in mm.24
35. These two musical phrases, conveying the texts, “said I to the soft
and “which, strange to tell, gave me an answer” respectively, share the same melodic
contour:

Figure 3S. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

Figure 3T. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice
Maggio’s approach to the text also betrays a keen sensitivity to verbal subtleties.
This is apparent at the very start of the piece. After a 12-bar introduction, one might
expect to hear the chorus enter assertively on a strong beat, but Maggio instead marks the
start of section 2 with the B-flat bass pedal tone, and delays the chorus entrance until beat
2 of m.14. Consider how someone might saying the first phrase of the poem: “And who
art thou?” This is not only a question, but a salutation, and as such would naturally be
of eye contact, perhaps a smile of greeting. The narrator needs a
moment to “see” the shower of rain, and wonder who it might be, before he can start the
poem. Maggio’s realization brings out this extremely subtle point in a brilliant way.
esting example of sensitivity to language occurs in mm.24-27 and mm.32
35. These two musical phrases, conveying the texts, “said I to the soft-falling shower”
and “which, strange to tell, gave me an answer” respectively, share the same melodic
The Voice of the Rain, mm.24-29, tenor 1

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
The Voice of the Rain, mm.32-35, tenor 1

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
70
a keen sensitivity to verbal subtleties.
bar introduction, one might
expect to hear the chorus enter assertively on a strong beat, but Maggio instead marks the
bass pedal tone, and delays the chorus entrance until beat
2 of m.14. Consider how someone might saying the first phrase of the poem: “And who
art thou?” This is not only a question, but a salutation, and as such would naturally be
of eye contact, perhaps a smile of greeting. The narrator needs a
moment to “see” the shower of rain, and wonder who it might be, before he can start the
poem. Maggio’s realization brings out this extremely subtle point in a brilliant way.
27 and mm.32-
falling shower”
and “which, strange to tell, gave me an answer” respectively, share the same melodic
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).

The musical connection between these two phrases sets up a dichotomy between question
and answer, and provides some welcome melodic repetition. Maggio may have also been
drawn to this parallel by the metrical similarities between the ends of the two phrases:
˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
said I to the soft

/ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer

The composer discerned a metrical parallel in the poetic text, and was able to capitalize
on it in his musical realization. Textual meter is also painstakingly preserved in part of a
melodic theme passed from section to section in mm.106
exactly parallels the pattern of accented and unaccented syllables in Whitman’s text, as
demonstrated by a comparison of the musical line and the metrical scansion of the poetry.
/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
atomies, dust-layer

Figure 3U. Maggio: The Voice of the Rain
Source: Robert Maggio, The Voice of the Rain

Musically, emphasis is given
measure), or pitch – to those syllables emphasized in a natural declamation of the line.
The rests that bracket the word “dust” also force the singers to place the final “
ahead of the “l” of “-layers,” thereby emphasizing its dry, pitchless qua
The musical connection between these two phrases sets up a dichotomy between question
and answer, and provides some welcome melodic repetition. Maggio may have also been
y the metrical similarities between the ends of the two phrases:
˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
said I to the soft-falling shower,
˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer
The composer discerned a metrical parallel in the poetic text, and was able to capitalize
on it in his musical realization. Textual meter is also painstakingly preserved in part of a
melodic theme passed from section to section in mm.106-118. The rhythm
exactly parallels the pattern of accented and unaccented syllables in Whitman’s text, as
demonstrated by a comparison of the musical line and the metrical scansion of the poetry.
/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
layers of the globe
The Voice of the Rain, mm.110-111, soprano

The Voice of the Rain (Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
Musically, emphasis is given – either through duration, beat strength (within th
to those syllables emphasized in a natural declamation of the line.
The rests that bracket the word “dust” also force the singers to place the final “
layers,” thereby emphasizing its dry, pitchless quality. As with the
71
The musical connection between these two phrases sets up a dichotomy between question
and answer, and provides some welcome melodic repetition. Maggio may have also been
y the metrical similarities between the ends of the two phrases:
The composer discerned a metrical parallel in the poetic text, and was able to capitalize
on it in his musical realization. Textual meter is also painstakingly preserved in part of a
118. The rhythm almost
exactly parallels the pattern of accented and unaccented syllables in Whitman’s text, as
demonstrated by a comparison of the musical line and the metrical scansion of the poetry.
(Lambertville, NJ: www.robertmaggio.net, 2006).
either through duration, beat strength (within the
to those syllables emphasized in a natural declamation of the line.
The rests that bracket the word “dust” also force the singers to place the final “-st” well
lity. As with the
72
spoken (or read) text, the string of unaccented syllables at the end of this line, “-layers of
the,” is set more rapidly, and with equal, even duration in the music.
Robert Maggio’s The Voice of the Rain reflects a comprehensive understanding of
the text. The circular harmonic form complements the central poetic imagery of the
water cycle. The instrumental parts, built upon three basic thematic components,
simultaneously convey great complexity and incredible simplicity; the additive quality of
the patterns evoke the “organic principle” of natural – and by extension – “cosmic
processes.”
113
Maggio’s reading of the text focuses on action; this is particularly
apparent in the composer’s use of texture to emphasize particular words or phrases.
Maggio also exploits the musical idiom to reflect subtleties in the language, from metrical
parallels to expressive consonants.

Conclusion
Both I Hear America Singing and The Voice of the Rain exemplify how a
composer may respond to and reflect a poetic text in the process of setting it to music.
Robert Maggio is sensitive to language, both large-scale form and imagery, and small-
scale qualitative details. Considered together, these two works demonstrate the
composer’s considerable breadth. Stylistically, the settings are quite distinct;
nevertheless, the composer’s connection on all levels with the texts was not impacted by
a shift in aesthetic.

113
Gay Wilson Allen, Walt Whitman Handbook (New York: Hendricks House, 1946), 293, quoted in
Wannamaker, 7-8.

73
Chapter 4
Nico Muhly

Overview: Expecting the Main Things from You
Expecting the Main Things from You for choir, string quartet, percussion, and
organ was commissioned in 2005 by the Gabe Wiener Foundation for Judy Clurman. It
is a three-movement work, each movement taking one Walt Whitman poem as its text: “I
Hear America Singing,” “A Farm Picture,” and “Poets to Come.” Of these texts, Muhly
wrote: “…although I have always considered setting secular texts to be incredibly
difficult, I thought that Whitman’s texts here have the same kind of civic holiness found
in the Psalms.”
114
The first poem in the group was a stipulation of the commission itself.
The composer chose the second and third specifically because they were less widely
known (he felt the first was “overset”) and were poems he particularly liked.
115
In his
interview, it was striking to observe how Muhly responded to these texts in a visceral –
and often highly visual – way. Like all of the composers surveyed in this project, he
focused on the imagery contained in the texts, but he was also very sensitive to mood (“I
Hear America Singing” he described as “kinetic”; “A Farm Picture” as “very still”) and
syntax (in “I Hear America Singing,” he described the tripartite structure of Whitman’s
line, “…the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission, or at

114
Muhly, liner notes, 8.

115
Muhly, interview, 219.

74
sundown,” as “a little more generous” than those preceding).
116
He also described his
conception of the ending of “I Hear America Singing” thus: “…once that lady thing
happens [poetic line 8, depicting the “mother” and the “young wife”], for me the poem
then hovers in a sense, like the idea of the men now is in relief of the women…that was
my slightly radical interpretation.”
117
Muhly’s visual conception of these texts directly
ties into his musical settings, as will be discussed later in the chapter. The end result is a
balanced form in which the outer movements are highly active, positioned largely in the
“political urgency of the city,” while the second is a “pastoral interlude,” still and
calm.
118
There is no explicit thematic connection between the three texts, although Muhly
noted that the third text – which, he said, “feels like a negotiation…interpersonal and
political” – strikes a balance between the obvious, visible action of the first and the
absolute stasis of the second.
119
Muhly also purposefully designed the entire work to
move from the specific (the text painting in the first half of the first movement) to the
abstract – achieved at the end of movement three through the effusive repetition of the
final word, “you.”
120
The thematic content of the text was not a driving force behind the
large-scale musical form. Muhly was more interested in constructing a work with a
satisfying musical trajectory, and chose texts that would further that fundamental aim.

116
Ibid., 220, 222.

117
Ibid., 222.

118
Muhly, liner notes, 8.

119
Muhly, interview, 220.

120
Ibid., 223, 226.

75
Musical Analysis: “I Hear America Singing”
121

Nico Muhly’s approach to the structure of this poem is markedly different from
Robert Maggio’s. Muhly divides the text into two main sections: lines 1-7 and lines 8-
11, separated by a lengthy instrumental interlude in mm.125-178 (see table 3A). The
distinction between the male and female workers in Whitman’s catalog is thus
highlighted at the highest structural level of the composition. As Muhly explained in his
interview, this was one of his first reactions to the poetic text; he knew that he wished to
very clearly delineate the “muscle business” from the “ladies’ space.”
122
Further
divisions occur in musical subsections, separating line 1 from lines 2-7, as well as line 8
from lines 9-11. These divisions mirror the formal structure of the poem described in the
poetic analysis. Muhly discerns this poetic structure; the musical form makes that
explicit. However, the feature that struck him most forcefully when first reading the
poem – the distinction between male and female spheres – takes precedence.
The large-scale form of “I Hear America Singing” also demonstrates just how
visual a conception this gender distinction is for Muhly. His aim is not only to separate
the men in lines 2-7 from the women in line 8, but to present the women in stark relief
against the backdrop of the preceding textual images – a highly visual idea to realize in
musical form. He accomplishes this with the long instrumental interlude in mm.125-178.
Just as in a visual relief, the important element is space. Muhly places a lengthy, text-less
interval between poetic lines 7 and 8. In order to emphasize the contrast, this dividing

121
For poetic analysis of “I Hear America Singing,” see Chapter 3.

122
Muhly, interview, 222.

76
Table 4A. Formal Structure of Muhly: “I Hear America Singing”

Sections Subsections Tempo Poetic line Forces

mm.1-34 mm.1-19 q=96 instrumental
mm.20-22 1 (1
st
half) SATB homophonic
mm.23-28 instrumental
mm.29-32 1 (2
nd
half) SATB homophonic
mm.33-34 instrumental

mm.35-124 mm.34-36 instrumental
mm.37-44 2 SATB homophonic
mm.45-48 instrumental
mm.49-52 3 S
mm.53-61 instrumental
mm.62-67 4 SATB divisi, polyphonic
mm.68-76 instrumental
mm.77-82 5 (1
st
half) SATB homophonic (most)
mm.83-87 instrumental
mm.88-93 5 (2
nd
half) SATB homophonic
mm.94-101 instrumental
mm.102-106 q=86 6 (1
st
half) A
mm.107-111 6 (2
nd
half) S
mm.112-124 7 SATB homophonic

mm.125-178 mm.125-135 q=72 instrumental, iteration 1 & 2
mm.136-146 q=82 instrumental, iteration 3
mm.147-157 q=86 instrumental, iteration 4
mm.158-178 instrumental, iteration 5

mm.179-193 mm.179-186 q=72 8 (1
st
half) SATB divisi, homophonic
mm.187-190 q=86 instrumental
mm.191-193 8 (2
nd
half) SATB divisi, homophonic

mm.194-212 q=96 instrumental

mm.213-243 mm.213-219 9 S solo
mm.220-223 instrumental
mm.224-232 q=86 10 S solo / A solo/ TB / SA
mm.233-239 q=76 11 SATB divisi, homophonic
mm.240-243 “da da da” SATB divisi, homophonic

space is distinct from the music preceding or following it. To use Muhly’s words, “it’s
totally weird.”
123
What makes it “weird” (i.e. unexpected in
the dominance of repeated thematic elements and an inconsistent metrical pulse. The
interlude is built upon the repetition of an arpeggiated pattern initially played by the first
violin. The pattern contains four parts (12 bea
respectively), each followed by a rest and a fermata:

Figure 4A. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

For the two initial iterations of the pattern (
accompanied only by sustained pitches in the vibraphone and organ, moving in subtle
counterpoint. The violin part is tech
performer’s struggle is placed center
celebrated in the text. After the repeat, the pattern appears three more times in

123
Ibid.

space is distinct from the music preceding or following it. To use Muhly’s words, “it’s
What makes it “weird” (i.e. unexpected in the established context) is
the dominance of repeated thematic elements and an inconsistent metrical pulse. The
interlude is built upon the repetition of an arpeggiated pattern initially played by the first
violin. The pattern contains four parts (12 beats, 9 beats, 5 beats, and 7 beats in duration
respectively), each followed by a rest and a fermata:
“I Hear America Singing,” mm.125-135, violin 1
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
For the two initial iterations of the pattern (mm.125-135 repeat), the first violin is
accompanied only by sustained pitches in the vibraphone and organ, moving in subtle
counterpoint. The violin part is technically challenging and utterly exposed; the
performer’s struggle is placed center-stage – a fitting sideways tribute to the work being
celebrated in the text. After the repeat, the pattern appears three more times in

77
space is distinct from the music preceding or following it. To use Muhly’s words, “it’s
the established context) is
the dominance of repeated thematic elements and an inconsistent metrical pulse. The
interlude is built upon the repetition of an arpeggiated pattern initially played by the first
ts, 9 beats, 5 beats, and 7 beats in duration

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
, the first violin is
accompanied only by sustained pitches in the vibraphone and organ, moving in subtle
nically challenging and utterly exposed; the
a fitting sideways tribute to the work being
celebrated in the text. After the repeat, the pattern appears three more times in
78
succession, this time shared between the two violins. This facilitates an increase in the
tempo in m.136, and another in m.147 (see table 4A). The accompanying instrumental
parts in each iteration change: the triangle plays in iterations 3 and 4; the organ plays a
variant of the arpeggiated theme starting in iteration 3; the viola joins in iteration 3 and 5;
the ‘cello joins starting in iteration 4. The repetitive elements (both thematic and
harmonic) that organize this section are readily apparent, and the small changes in each
iteration are highlighted against the backdrop of redundancy. Unlike the previous 124
measures of music, where the pace of change was rapid, this interlude seems to slow
time, making space for a meticulous working-out of a musical idea. The mood is
introspective; the music communicates a process through its form. In iteration 5, Muhly
changes the metrical barring to a consistent ¾, and eliminates the fermatas over the rests
between phrases. This, and a luminous half-diminished 9
th
chord left virtually hanging in
the air at the end of the section (and picked up by the chorus, entering in m.179) eases the
transition out of this unique musical space. While Muhly employs “pattern music”
124

throughout the first movement, paradoxically he utilizes the greatest degree of technical
rigor to interrupt the formal rigor of Whitman’s poetic catalog. The instrumental
interlude creates an almost tangible sense of separation between lines 7 and 8. While a
stark distinction between men and women did not emerge forcefully in the poetic
analysis, Muhly’s reading of the poem is different. The structural form of his setting

124
Nico Muhly, “Projects: Expecting the Main Things from You (2005),” The Web Site of Nico Muhly,
http://nicomuhly.com/projects/2007/expecting-the-main-things-from-you/ [accessed September 20, 2010].

79
reflects his instinctive response to the text, and conveys his interpretation in a highly
creative manner.
Muhly’s approach to the poetic text at the line level – specifically the expansion
of each successive line in the poetic catalog – also deserves mention. As table 4A
demonstrates, alternation of the chorus and the instrumental ensemble is a central
structural feature of the movement. This is true at the macro level: as just discussed, the
instrumental section in mm.125-178 serves to separate men’s work from women’s work.
In addition, instrumental interludes open the movement (mm.1-19) and separate poetic
line 8 (the final line of the poetic catalog) from lines 9-11 (the concluding section of the
poem). From the opening of the piece, the chorus alternates regularly with the
instruments. As a result, each line of poetic text is presented as a clearly defined unit.
With the exception of line 5, which Muhly splits to separate the “boatman” from the
“deckhand,” the composer allows the steadily lengthening lines to play out in his setting
as they do in the original text. The two halves of line 6 are sung by different vocal
sections, but smoothly connected. The length of line 7 is striking in the music, as it is in
the poem – made even more so by the fact that it follows so closely upon the heels of line
6. In this way, the composer compounds the cumulative force of the expanding textual
form through the interplay of chorus and instruments – text and no text.
This pervasive structure of alternation also provides the composer with an avenue
for some playful commentary on the poetic text. Although Muhly describes the
interaction of the chorus and instruments as “a very explicit accompaniment/solo
80
relationship,”
125
the instrumental role is not subordinate; instead, the play of forces is
more like a friendly and active dialogue. Most often, the instrumental ensemble seems to
respond to the chorus, as in mm.20-28, where the chorus’s opening phrase is immediately
followed by a flurry of scales and tremolo in the strings, the ring of cymbals and the
thump of the bass drum (see fig. 4B). Similarly, the ensemble erupts with activity in
mm.44-49, immediately following the chorus phrase, “Each one singing his as it should
be: blithe and strong.” The chorus does not always dominate this dialogue, however.
The instruments occasionally prepare a chorus entrance, as in m.35, where the steady
16
th
-note pulse of the shaker heralds the start of the poetic catalog (line 2, “Those of
mechanics…”). Likewise, the buzzy entrance of the first violin in m.110, marked
“insect-like” in the score, sets the stage for the more rural imagery contained in poetic
line 7: “The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s…” One could characterize the
contribution of the instruments as simple text painting, as the composer does: “the poet
speaks of carpenters and we have the thwack of wood against wood, he speaks of
deckhands and we hear a ship’s bell.”
126
But, the interplay is more nuanced than that.
The anvil used in m.58, following the chorus text, “The carpenter singing his as he
measures plank and beam” (line 3), is marked “f apocalyptic” in the score. This is more
than simple text painting; this is commentary. Muhly’s “impish” sense of humor is a
matter of public record at this point,
127
so this marking probably is meant to convey a

125
Ibid.

126
Muhly, liner notes, 8.

127
Rebecca Milzoff, “Nico Muhly Gives Tips on Getting the Perfect Head Shot,” vulture.com, August 22,
2008, http://www.vulture.com/2008/08/nico_muhly_on.html [accessed January 17, 2011].

Figure 4B. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing

Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You
81
“I Hear America Singing,” mm.20-23
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
81

particular mood rather than speak directly to his reading of Whitman’s text; nevertheless,
the composer clearly views his setting as more than simply a veh
intentions. There are many other examples of the interplay between chorus and
instruments that would not be characterized as simple text painting. Following the chorus
line, “The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves
vibraphone and first violin quote the beginning of the chorus melody (m.70) before
expanding further upon the rhythmic pattern. In m.122
words sung just a measure before, “or at sundown” (line 7).
example, however, occurs at m.187, where the chorus arrival on the word “work”
coincides with the return of an arpeggiated figure in the first violin:

Figure 4C. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

particular mood rather than speak directly to his reading of Whitman’s text; nevertheless,
the composer clearly views his setting as more than simply a vehicle for the poet’s
intentions. There are many other examples of the interplay between chorus and
instruments that would not be characterized as simple text painting. Following the chorus
line, “The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work” (line 4), the
vibraphone and first violin quote the beginning of the chorus melody (m.70) before
expanding further upon the rhythmic pattern. In m.122-124, the strings echo the final
words sung just a measure before, “or at sundown” (line 7). Perhaps the most clever
example, however, occurs at m.187, where the chorus arrival on the word “work”
coincides with the return of an arpeggiated figure in the first violin:
“I Hear America Singing,” mm.185-190
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
82
particular mood rather than speak directly to his reading of Whitman’s text; nevertheless,
icle for the poet’s
intentions. There are many other examples of the interplay between chorus and
instruments that would not be characterized as simple text painting. Following the chorus
off work” (line 4), the
vibraphone and first violin quote the beginning of the chorus melody (m.70) before
124, the strings echo the final
Perhaps the most clever
example, however, occurs at m.187, where the chorus arrival on the word “work”

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

83
This figure formed the basis of the central instrumental section of the piece (mm.125-
178) – a theme that was both very hard work for the first violinist to play, and was
subsequently worked out thoroughly through multiple repetitions. This interaction
between the performing forces acts like a broad wink and a grin; everybody is in on the
joke. Muhly clearly doesn’t take this text too seriously. He is having fun with it. He
even refers to the poetic catalog of workers (lines 2-7) as “the ant-farm”
128
in the liner
notes to the Los Angeles Master Chorale recording, and likened it to “an RNC ad” in his
interview.
129
This text was not the composer’s choice (see the transcript of Muhly’s
interview in Appendix E), but if the setting perhaps suggests some ambivalence towards
the poem, Muhly’s attitude is good-natured. The chorus presents the text in a
straightforward manner; the instrumental ensemble offers engaging counterpoint,
painting the text in a conspicuous and somewhat self-reflexive way.
Muhly’s setting reflects the dichotomies (detailed in the poetic analysis) between
day and night, and the individual and the community, which appear at the end of
Whitman’s poem, although the relative importance of these culminating lines compared
to the rest of the text is not emphasized. In fact, they seem rather perfunctory after the
arduous working-out of the instrumental interlude in mm.125-178. Line 9, “Each singing
what belongs to her and to no one else,”
130
is a jagged phrase sung by a lone soprano
soloist over sustained chords in the organ:

128
Muhly, liner notes, 8.

129
Muhly, interview, 222.

130
Muhly’s text is slightly different from that used in the analysis. Some differences could have been the
result of the composer using the 2
nd
, 3
rd
or 4
th
editions of Leaves of Grass as his source, but not all. What

Figure 4D. Muhly: “I Hear America Singing
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Thin

seems more likely is that he simply mis
interview that he considers such occurrences to be a positive potential outcome of his text

“I Hear America Singing,” mm.214-19

Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

seems more likely is that he simply mis-transcribed the text in the process of setting it. Muhly noted in his
interview that he considers such occurrences to be a positive potential outcome of his text
84
(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

transcribed the text in the process of setting it. Muhly noted in his
interview that he considers such occurrences to be a positive potential outcome of his text-setting process.

85
Even on the page, the solo line is independent and isolated. Solo voices also carry the
first half of line 10, “The day what belongs to the day – at night,” but the remainder of
the line passes to the chorus – first the tenors and basses, followed by the sopranos and
altos. In this way, Muhly highlights the transition between the solitary work of day and
the communal singing of night. One might have expected a full, declamatory finish, but
Muhly’s reading instead “end[s] in the far distance, listening to the ‘strong melodious
songs.’”
131
For Muhly, Whitman’s imagery of night also invokes distance and obscurity.
The “party of young fellows” disappears into the darkness, the sounds of their revelry
overlaid by the “da da da” of a more modern era.

Poetic Analysis: “A Farm Picture”

/ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
1 Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘
2 A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding;

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
3 And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.

This poem first appeared in Whitman’s 1865 publication, Drum Taps. A
collection of poems written in response to the American Civil War, this group was
incorporated into the fourth edition of Leaves of Grass two years later. “A Farm Picture”
was printed as an independent poem in the fifth (1871) edition, and included in the set

131
Muhly, “Projects.”

86
titled “By the Roadside” in the sixth (1881) edition. Although it is one of Whitman’s
shortest poems, it nevertheless manages to express an expansive vision in only three
fairly short lines. Vision is an apt word to use in this case, as well, because this poem is
extremely visual in conception. The poem begins with a barn with an “ample open
door.” Only in line 2, with the description of the field and grazing animals clearly
outside the barn, does the reader understand that the viewpoint of the poem is from within
the barn, looking out. Line 3 offers a dramatic, almost jarring shift from pastoral
proximity to the unknown of the “far horizon.” The reader experiences three distinct
viewpoints while standing – metaphorically – in one place. The first view is of the inside
of the barn, looking out through the doors; the second view is the scene stretching out
immediately beyond the doorway, of a pasture and grazing animals; the third view is that
of the far distance, to the point where the land is no longer clearly visible. Each view
also becomes progressively less circumscribed. The view in line 1 is delineated within a
doorway, framed by the interior of the barn; the view in line 3, on the other hand, has no
limits – even the horizon, the defining line between earth and sky, is “fading away.” Max
Cavitch notes that, “In the poetry of Drum-Taps and the prose of Specimen Days,
Whitman practiced a writing of ‘remains,’ that is, a writing not just about unassimilable
pieces or fragments of wartime experience…but writing that is itself characterized by
patchwork, discontinuity, and open-endedness.”
132
“A Farm Picture” also illustrates
Whitman’s ability to transition quickly and seamlessly from fine details to expansive,

132
Max Cavitch, American Elegy: The Poetry of Mourning From the Puritans to Whitman (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 2007), 238.

87
conceptual ideas. Whitman discovered “…a way to structure a poem that gave his work
so much flexibility and range and allowed him to move effortlessly and with forceful
effect from the detail to the metaphysical…”
133

The scansion of this poem does not reveal anything particularly startling – in fact,
that is perhaps precisely the point. It is such a short poem, there is little time to establish
a rhythmic pattern in the first place, let alone deviate meaningfully from it. What can be
said is that the overall rhythm is primarily that of two-syllable groupings (iambs and
trochees) with fairly regular accents (i.e., few phyrrics and spondees to suddenly
accelerate or slow the metrical tempo). The overall sonic effect, therefore, is that of
serenity, simplicity, and peace: exactly the same affect reflected in the meaning of the
words. The poem is highly visual, describing a static scene. Sound and content are well
aligned.

Musical Analysis: “A Farm Picture”
Nico Muhly found this poem particularly compelling because it reminded him of
his childhood in Vermont.
134
His setting, however, incorporates the unique element of a
“stylized Morse code,” sung by most of the chorus – inspired by a more recent memory
of seeing satellites in the night sky above the Vermont woods: “the now-omnipresent
invisible haze of technology even in the fields.”
135
The flexibility with which Muhly

133
Williams, 85.

134
Muhly, interview, 220.

135
Muhly, liner notes, 8.

combines fond early (and presumably more peaceful) memo
with a contemporary experience, without any apparent judgment of either, is very similar
to Whitman’s unquestioning acceptance of all elements within a diverse universe.
Muhly was drawn to the static, visual quality of “A Farm
reflects this.
137
The text is sung by soprano and alto soloists (although these parts are
sung by several voices from the chorus on the LA Master Chorale recording), in a series
of long, sustained melodic lines, floating above a h
chorus, low strings, and organ. For example, the first melodic phrase, spanning mm.7
lasts for almost 20 seconds but only includes the words, “through the ample” (line 1):

Figure 4E. Muhly: “A Farm Picture
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

The text is similarly so extended throughout this movement, in fact, that the words are
virtually obscured. Individual lines of text are divided into multiple musical phrases, in a
manner very similar to that employed in movement 1 (see table 4B).

136
Williams, 185.

137
Muhly, interview, 220.

combines fond early (and presumably more peaceful) memories of his childhood home
with a contemporary experience, without any apparent judgment of either, is very similar
to Whitman’s unquestioning acceptance of all elements within a diverse universe.
Muhly was drawn to the static, visual quality of “A Farm Picture,” and his setting
The text is sung by soprano and alto soloists (although these parts are
sung by several voices from the chorus on the LA Master Chorale recording), in a series
of long, sustained melodic lines, floating above a hazy, sonorous cloud produced by the
chorus, low strings, and organ. For example, the first melodic phrase, spanning mm.7
lasts for almost 20 seconds but only includes the words, “through the ample” (line 1):
“A Farm Picture,” mm.7-13, solo soprano
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
The text is similarly so extended throughout this movement, in fact, that the words are
virtually obscured. Individual lines of text are divided into multiple musical phrases, in a
manner very similar to that employed in movement 1 (see table 4B).

88
ries of his childhood home
with a contemporary experience, without any apparent judgment of either, is very similar
to Whitman’s unquestioning acceptance of all elements within a diverse universe.
136

Picture,” and his setting
The text is sung by soprano and alto soloists (although these parts are
sung by several voices from the chorus on the LA Master Chorale recording), in a series
azy, sonorous cloud produced by the
chorus, low strings, and organ. For example, the first melodic phrase, spanning mm.7-13,
lasts for almost 20 seconds but only includes the words, “through the ample” (line 1):

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
The text is similarly so extended throughout this movement, in fact, that the words are
virtually obscured. Individual lines of text are divided into multiple musical phrases, in a

89
Table 4B. Formal Structure of Muhly: “A Farm Picture”

Sections Poetic line Text Forces (notes)

mm.1-7 chorus (textless Morse code),
vla., v.c., org., vibr., tam-tam begin
mm.7-12 1 Through the ample solo S, woodblock begin
mm.13-14
mm.14-19 1 open door
mm.19-20
mm.21-25 1 of the peaceful vln.1&2 duet begins m.22
mm.25-26
mm.27-31 1 country barn, solo S&A duet begins
mm.32-34
mm.35-37 2 A sun-lit pasture field
mm.38-41
mm.42-46 2 with cattle and horses
mm.46-47
mm.47-50 2 feeding;
mm.51-54

mm.55-58 3 And haze, and vista, vln.1&2 more active
m.59
mm.60-62 3 And haze, and vista,
mm.63-67
mm.67-70 3 and the far horizon,
m.71 solo A ends
mm.72-75 3 fading away vibr., woodblock end m.73;
vln.1&2 end m.74
m.76
mm.77-83 “dididi” solo S&A, vln.1&2 join
“wordless pulse”

Occasional melismatic passages also obscure the natural cadence of the language:

Figure 4F. Muhly: “A Farm Picture
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

In this way, the relationships between linguistic elements that together convey meaning
are made indistinguishable; language is reduced to sound; meaning is transmitted through
sonic imagery rather than throug
musical setting has an analogue in the static imagery of the poem; while in one sense the
musical setting obliterates the poem, in another sense it clears away the distraction of
words, leaving only the images they invoke.
Given this treatment of the text, the more subtle elements of metrical patterns and
formal line structure in the poem do not play a prominent role in the musical setting.
However, there are some interesting points of contrast in
poetic and musical forms. As discussed in the poetic analysis, each line of the poem
encapsulates a distinct perspective, moving from the foreground within the barn, to the
pasture outside, and then finally to the “far hori
Occasional melismatic passages also obscure the natural cadence of the language:
“A Farm Picture,” mm.26-31

Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
In this way, the relationships between linguistic elements that together convey meaning
are made indistinguishable; language is reduced to sound; meaning is transmitted through
sonic imagery rather than through textual imagery. This distillation of language in the
musical setting has an analogue in the static imagery of the poem; while in one sense the
musical setting obliterates the poem, in another sense it clears away the distraction of
the images they invoke.
Given this treatment of the text, the more subtle elements of metrical patterns and
formal line structure in the poem do not play a prominent role in the musical setting.
However, there are some interesting points of contrast in a comparison of the large
poetic and musical forms. As discussed in the poetic analysis, each line of the poem
encapsulates a distinct perspective, moving from the foreground within the barn, to the
pasture outside, and then finally to the “far horizon, fading away” (line 3). Muhly’s
90
Occasional melismatic passages also obscure the natural cadence of the language:
(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
In this way, the relationships between linguistic elements that together convey meaning
are made indistinguishable; language is reduced to sound; meaning is transmitted through
h textual imagery. This distillation of language in the
musical setting has an analogue in the static imagery of the poem; while in one sense the
musical setting obliterates the poem, in another sense it clears away the distraction of
Given this treatment of the text, the more subtle elements of metrical patterns and
formal line structure in the poem do not play a prominent role in the musical setting.
a comparison of the large-scale
poetic and musical forms. As discussed in the poetic analysis, each line of the poem
encapsulates a distinct perspective, moving from the foreground within the barn, to the
zon, fading away” (line 3). Muhly’s

musical form does not clearly differentiate line 1 from line 2, but it is an additive form,
slowly building through the accumulation of instruments and/or textural complexity. The
beginning of line 3 is marked in a mor
active line in the first violin at m.55:

Figure 4G. Muhly: “A Farm Picture

Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You
musical form does not clearly differentiate line 1 from line 2, but it is an additive form,
slowly building through the accumulation of instruments and/or textural complexity. The
beginning of line 3 is marked in a more distinctive way, with the introduction of a highly
active line in the first violin at m.55:
“A Farm Picture,” mm.55-57

Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
91
musical form does not clearly differentiate line 1 from line 2, but it is an additive form,
slowly building through the accumulation of instruments and/or textural complexity. The
e distinctive way, with the introduction of a highly
(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

92
Muhly also chooses to repeat the text, “and haze and vista” (line 3), in mm.60-63.
Although he generally avoids repetition when setting a text to music, in this case he said
that he liked the chord accompanying the first phrase (mm.55-58), and wanted to bring in
the second violin with the repeated phrase.
138
This was a purely musical decision, not
consciously connected to the composer’s interpretation of the text. Nevertheless,
Muhly’s text-setting process does so intimately connect text with musical form – albeit in
a highly intuitive, abstract way – that such distinctions between decisions that seem
purely musical versus text-driven seem fairly meaningless. This was discussed in greater
detail in Chapter 2. The movement is given a nice sense of symmetry – and brought to a
quiet close – with the gradual disappearance of various textural elements in mm.70-74.
The alto soloist drops out after m.70 (returning to sing wordless pulses in mm.77-83), the
vibraphone and wood block exit in m.73, and the two violins cease their frenetic activity
after m.74.
This expanding – contracting form is reflected more explicitly in the percussion
parts. The vibraphone and tam-tam parts essentially consist of single notes followed by
rests (the tam-tam always plays a whole note, while the duration of the note varies for the
vibraphone). The total length of this figure (note plus following rests) expands and
contracts over the course of the movement, depending upon the amount of rest (see table
4C).

138
Ibid., 225.

Table 4C. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly: “A Farm Pict
vibraphone and tam-tam

Vibraphone
Length of pattern (beats)

24
25
26
27
28
27
26
25
24

As table 4C shows, the pattern for the vibraphone is highly regular,
beats to 28, and then contracting back to 24. The pattern for the tam
44 to 16, and then expands back to 43
wood block pattern contains two consistent note groups, s
sections of rest:

Figure 4H. Muhly: “A Farm Picture
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

Table 4C. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly: “A Farm Pict

Tam-tam
length of pattern (beats)

44
31
25
28
28
28
16
36
40
43
As table 4C shows, the pattern for the vibraphone is highly regular, expanding from 24
beats to 28, and then contracting back to 24. The pattern for the tam-tam contracts from
44 to 16, and then expands back to 43 – although the progression is far less regular. The
wood block pattern contains two consistent note groups, separated by two variable
“A Farm Picture,” mm.8-13, wood block
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
93
Table 4C. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly: “A Farm Picture,”

expanding from 24
tam contracts from
although the progression is far less regular. The
eparated by two variable

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

The note groups reverse in m.43:

Figure 4J. Muhly: “A Farm Picture
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

When mapped out, the lengths of the two periods of rest in the wood block figure forms a
symmetrical, expanding and contracting pattern:

Table 4D. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” wood
block

Beats of rest within pattern
mm.7-37 mm.43

1 6
1.5 5.5
2.5 5
2.5 5.5
3 4
3.5 3.5
4 3
5.5 2.5
5 2.5
5.5 1.5
6 1

Use of structural devices such as these is further evidence of Muhly’s focus on building
large-scale musical forms to meet his expressive needs. He is inspired by details large
and small within the poetic text, but the resulting musical work represents hi
the text, rather than his realization of it. Muhly’s “A Farm Picture” reflects the mood and
The note groups reverse in m.43:
“A Farm Picture,” mm.43-48, wood block
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
When mapped out, the lengths of the two periods of rest in the wood block figure forms a
trical, expanding and contracting pattern:
Table 4D. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” wood

Beats of rest within pattern Beats of rest following pattern
mm.43-73 mm.7-37 mm.43

5.5 8.5
5.5 5.5 7.5
5.5 7.5
5.5 6 6
6.5 6.5
3.5 6.5 6.5
6 6
2.5 7.5 5.5
2.5 7.5 5.5
1.5 8.5 5.5
Use of structural devices such as these is further evidence of Muhly’s focus on building
scale musical forms to meet his expressive needs. He is inspired by details large
and small within the poetic text, but the resulting musical work represents hi
the text, rather than his realization of it. Muhly’s “A Farm Picture” reflects the mood and
94

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
When mapped out, the lengths of the two periods of rest in the wood block figure forms a
Table 4D. Expanding/Contracting Rhythmic Patterns in Muhly: “A Farm Picture,” wood

Beats of rest following pattern
mm.43-73

Use of structural devices such as these is further evidence of Muhly’s focus on building
scale musical forms to meet his expressive needs. He is inspired by details large
and small within the poetic text, but the resulting musical work represents his reaction to
the text, rather than his realization of it. Muhly’s “A Farm Picture” reflects the mood and

95
the spirit – the fundamental themes – of the poem with great precision (Muhly is an
intuitive and sensitive interpreter of text; he also holds a degree in English Literature),
while dispensing with much of the linguistic machinery that brings them to life. While
respectful of text, Muhly is no slave to it.

Poetic Analysis: “Poets to Come”

/ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
1 Poets to come! Orators, singers, musicians to come!

/ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
2 Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am for;

˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / /
3 But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘
4 Arouse! Arouse – for you must justify me – you must answer.

/ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
5 I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future, but advance a

/ ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
moment, only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness.

/ ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
6 I am a man who, sauntering along, without fully stopping, turns a casual look

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
upon you, and then averts his face,

/ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
7 Leaving it to you to prove and define it,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ /
8 Expecting the main things from you.

96
This poem exemplifies Whitman in prime oratorical form. In contrast to the
meditative quality achieved in “A Farm Picture,” “Poets to Come” is impassioned and
dynamic. It not only conveys but demands action from the reader. The overall structure
is split into two parts, lines 1-4 and lines 5-8. The first half of the poem addresses
Whitman’s readers directly, and sets up a clear dichotomy between “I” (Whitman) and
“you” (future poets). Lines 1 and 4 are commands; the caesuras, the exclamations, and
the repetition of words or phrases (“to come!”, “Arouse”, “you must”) slow the metrical
tempo, while conveying emphatic urgency. Like pulling back on a bow string, Whitman
heightens the tension by holding rather than releasing the energy contained in his
message. Lines 2 and 3 establish the dichotomy between present and future, Whitman
and future poets. The beginning of line 2 could perhaps more naturally have been
phrased as: “To-day is not to justify me”; instead, Whitman chose to begin the line with
the word, “not.” This lends an archaic feel to the phrase, elevating its tone, but more
importantly, it makes Whitman’s thesis statement (contained in lines 2 and 3) explicit. It
bares the skeletons of both lines, which really could be condensed into: “Not I…But
you.” Whitman’s choice of words to describe the poets of the future in line 3 reflects his
outspoken nationalism (“native,” “continental”), his love for the common masses who
earn their bread by physical labor (“athletic”), and his staunch faith in progress (“new,”
“greater than before known”). The poet conveys the expansive multitude of these future
poets through the meaning of the words of course, but also through the mechanics of
language. From “native” to “athletic” to “continental” to “greater than before known,”

97
each word or phrase contains progressively more syllables, as the idea conveyed by each
word or phrase also broadens in scope.
The second half of the poem shifts in tone from a broad, impersonal address to a
more direct, almost conversational mode of communication. Line 5 contains none of the
show-stopping metrical effects of line 4, and at 35 syllables in length, is considerably
longer than any of the previous lines. It has the feel of a line of prose, rather than poetry.
Unlike the grand vision presented in lines 1-4, it is also somewhat self-deprecatory (an
impressive feat, considering that Whitman is describing himself in near-cosmic terms, as
if he is physically advancing into a brightly-lit future through his writing, only to “wheel
and hurry back in the darkness” (line 5) of the present). Line 6 narrows the focus even
further, by presenting a vivid analogy to Whitman’s broader point, in the description of
the two people briefly looking at each other while walking down the street. It is no
accident that the spondee in position two causes the reader to pause briefly before moving
ahead, just as the man described in the line pauses and moves ahead:
/ ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
6 I am a | man who, | sauntering | along,

So characteristic of Whitman, this intimate, detailed description of an everyday
occurrence carries far broader implications. With a power eclipsing the high-minded
language preceding them, the final lines of the poem convey great depth of meaning
through visual imagery rather than complex intellectual arguments.

98
Musical Analysis: “Poets to Come”
This third movement, Nico Muhly writes, “is the most urgent and the most
aggressive in its patterns: I wanted to reinforce Whitman’s movement from the general to
the very specific and accusatory second person of the end of the poem.”
139
As previously
noted, the end of the third movement is also the culmination of a process of gradual
abstraction that began with the highly specific text (and accompanying musical imagery)
at the beginning of movement 1. Muhly’s setting of “Poets to Come” is structured as a
long progression of distinct musical segments, each connected in some way to the next.
As a whole, the piece begins with a high level of rhythmic intensity, gradually moves into
a more lyrical mode, and then builds again to the end – where a final winding-down
brings the piece to a quiet close similar to that of the first two movements. The distinct
two-part structure suggested by the poetic analysis is not reflected in this setting,
although the midpoint of the poem does coincide loosely with the midpoint of the general
musical form outlined in table 4E.

139
Muhly, liner notes, 9.

99
Table 4E. Formal Structure of Muhly: “Poets to Come”

Sections Subsections Tempo Poetic line Forces (notes)

mm.84-189 mm.84-94 q=128 instrumental
mm.95-107 “dadada”
mm.108-115 instrumental
mm.116-127 instrumental
mm.128-144 1, 2
mm.145-149 instrumental
mm.150-157 q=86 3 (1
st
half) S/A/T/B
mm.158-165 q=124 3 (2
nd
half) S/A/T
mm.166-168 4 (1
st
half)
mm.169-174 S/A
mm.175-189 5 S/A

mm.190-238 mm.190-198 6 (partial) A/T
mm.199-209 q=116 6 (partial) AT
mm.210-219 6 (partial) A/T
mm.220-227 6 (2
nd
half) B
mm.228-238 7 S/A

mm.239-252 mm.239-245 instrumental
mm.246-252 8 SATB

mm.253-320 mm.253-264 “you”
mm.265-275
mm.276-285 “you” recalls movement 1
mm.286-308 “you”
mm.309-320 “dadada”

Muhly’s “Poets to Come” is dynamic, built upon expanding and contracting
patterns similar to those used in movement 2. (Movements 2 and 3 are actually presented
in the score as a two-part unit; the bar numbering does not re-set at the beginning of
“Poets to Come.”) These patterns are expressed through musical dynamics:

Figure 4K. Muhly: “Poets to Come

Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

Figure 4L. Muhly: “Poets to Come
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

Muhly also utilizes meter in a dynamic way:

“Poets to Come,” m.96, chorus sopranos and altos

Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
“Poets to Come,” mm.103-107, strings and organ
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
Muhly also utilizes meter in a dynamic way:
100
(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).

Figure 4M. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” mm.239

Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You
101
,” mm.239-245
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
101

102
The music moves forward with purpose and direction. The rhythmic intensity and
repetition in the setting reflects the urgency of the text, in which Whitman demands
action from his readers. This is precisely the mood that drew the composer to the text in
the first place, and – as we have seen before – Muhly is able to convey the broader affect
of the poem in a highly effective and nuanced way, without slavishly adhering to poetic
form or prosody.
140

That is not to say that Muhly glosses over the finer points of the text
indiscriminately. The comparison contained in poetic lines 2 and 3 (as discussed in the
poetic analysis, the contrast between “I” and “you”) is brought out dramatically in the
musical setting. In m.150, marking the start of the text, “But you, a new brood…,” there
occurs a sudden drop in tempo (from quarter = 128 to quarter = 86) and a substantially
lighter musical texture (from strings, organ and bass drum to chorus, viola and wood
block). Muhly even sets the words from line 3, “a new brood,” “native,” and “athletic,”
in progressively longer phrases, a musical choice that references the progressively
expanding textural phrases in the poetic text.
Muhly’s focus on musical progression (and perhaps his aversion to obvious text
painting) in this movement does result in a somewhat unusual treatment of poetic line 4.
The text is declamatory, urgent – and would to most suggest a similar musical treatment.
Muhly’s reading, however, is quite different. The chorus begins the line with force and

140
Alfred Corn, The Poem’s Heartbeat: A Manual of Prosody (Port Townsend, WA: Copper Canyon Press,
2008), xv. Prosody refers to patterns of syllabic accentuation.

energy, but the accompaniment (particularly relative to the preceding music) is light, and
the phrase ends with a decrescendo to a

Figure 4N. Muhly: “Poets to Come
Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You

At this point, the composer also chooses to omit the end of the textual line,
answer,” further removing some of the emphasis inherent to the poetic source. This text
is immediately followed by a wordless pulse (sung on the syllables “da da da”)
element that closed the first two movements of
also appeared at the beginning of movement 3. While the musical form does not reflect
the shift in perspective between lines 1
marks this important feature with a distinctive thematic compone
half of the poem is presented in progressively elongated and abstracted form. The rather
conversational line 5 – unlike the lines preceding it
continuous duet between sopranos and altos in mm.175
energy, but the accompaniment (particularly relative to the preceding music) is light, and
the phrase ends with a decrescendo to a piano dynamic:
“Poets to Come,” mm.166-168
Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
At this point, the composer also chooses to omit the end of the textual line,
answer,” further removing some of the emphasis inherent to the poetic source. This text
is immediately followed by a wordless pulse (sung on the syllables “da da da”)
element that closed the first two movements of Expecting the Main Things
also appeared at the beginning of movement 3. While the musical form does not reflect
the shift in perspective between lines 1-4 and lines 5-8 of the poetic text, the composer
marks this important feature with a distinctive thematic component instead. The second
half of the poem is presented in progressively elongated and abstracted form. The rather
unlike the lines preceding it – is conveyed in one, long (almost)
continuous duet between sopranos and altos in mm.175-189. One reason that this is
103
energy, but the accompaniment (particularly relative to the preceding music) is light, and

(New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
At this point, the composer also chooses to omit the end of the textual line, “you must
answer,” further removing some of the emphasis inherent to the poetic source. This text
is immediately followed by a wordless pulse (sung on the syllables “da da da”) – an
Expecting the Main Things from You, and
also appeared at the beginning of movement 3. While the musical form does not reflect
8 of the poetic text, the composer
nt instead. The second
half of the poem is presented in progressively elongated and abstracted form. The rather
is conveyed in one, long (almost)
189. One reason that this is

104
striking is that it allows the chorus to dominate the musical texture for a longer period of
time than has been seen thus far in the entire piece. At the start of line 6 (“I am a man
who, sauntering along, without fully stopping, turns a casual look upon you, and then
averts his face”) in m.193, the text is conveyed through extremely long note values. This
stretching of the natural flow of the language obscures any textual meaning that might
have been conveyed through prosody, but it also forces the listener to pay close attention
to the text, as the chorus slowly plays out each word, syllable by syllable. Functioning
like Whitman’s spondee in position 2 of line 6 (“man who”), the elongation of the text
results in a presentation of textual meaning through musical imagery rather than the
language itself. This abstraction of text continues with the presentation of line 8
(“Expecting the main things from you”) in mm.246-252, where the words are placed over
a previously established, additive metrical pattern (see fig. 4P). This is an abstract
musical representation of both the dynamic drive of the movement as a whole and the
progressively directive tone of the poetic text – leading with “a pointed finger” directly to
the word “you.”
141
Mm.253-264 feature an explosion of iterations of the word “you,”
repeated with minor variation in mm.286-300. Muhly incorporates references to both an
earlier section of the movement (mm.265-275 are very similar to mm.140-144), as well
as the opening of the entire piece (mm.276-284 quote mm.1-9 of the first movement),
before wrapping up the work with a final expanding- contracting gesture, and the
wordless pulse of the opening of the movement.

141
Muhly, interview, 226.

Figure 4P. Muhly: “Poets to Come,” mm.246

Source: Nico Muhly, Expecting the Main Things from You
105
,” mm.246-252

Expecting the Main Things from You (New York: St. Rose Music Publishing, 2005).
105

106
As a whole, this movement demonstrates the composer’s focus on the
fundamental idea of a poetic text, and its function in a musical form. While Muhly is
undeniably aware of the full spectrum of nuance contained within the poetic text, his
process for setting a text to music does not focus predominantly on the conveyance of the
text itself. What seems more important to him is the mood and meaning contained within
the text; occasionally, this even requires the obscuring of the actual text in the interest of
conveying its meaning.

Conclusion
This analysis of Nico Muhly’s Expecting the Main Things from You highlights a
distinctive approach to text setting. Perhaps in part due to his educational background in
English Literature, the composer is clearly a perceptive and knowledgeable interpreter of
text. Yet, Muhly’s approach to musical setting does not slavishly follow the text, but
instead seeks to convey his reaction to it. In the first two movements, the text is
conveyed in short phrases, separated by instrumental interjections. In the first movement,
this creates the opportunity for an active dialogue between chorus and orchestra which –
as previously discussed – adds greater depth to the textual meaning, as well as conveying
the composer’s personal commentary on it. In the second movement, this parsing of text
contributes to the obscuring of textual structure, and to the overall sense of stillness
central to the textual imagery. In the third movement, the overriding sense of movement
and direction in the music ties directly into the urgency conveyed by the text. As this
movement progresses, moving purposefully from the concrete to the abstract, the text is

107
increasingly presented in long, continuous phrases, eventually culminating in an ecstatic
fireworks display on the word “you.” Muhly’s focus is not on conveying the text, but on
conveying what the text means to him.

108
Chapter 5

Steven Sametz

Overview: We two

We two was commissioned by the Male Choir Commissioning Corsortium in
2007. The five-movement work is scored for unaccompanied TTBB Soli and TTBB
Chorus. The first, third, fourth, and fifth movements each set a single Walt Whitman
poem; the text of the second movement is made up of excerpts from three Whitman texts.
Per the requirements of the commission, all of the movements can be excerpted, although
only movements 4 and 5 have been widely performed on their own.
142
Each movement is
musically distinct; at the same time, the work as a whole has a highly compelling formal
and dramatic structure that conveys a powerful message of its own. This analysis will
begin with a discussion of We two as a whole, and will proceed with detailed analyses of
the individual movements.
The poems chosen by Sametz come from a number of different sections of Leaves
of Grass (see Appendix G); the textual structure of the full work, therefore, is the
composer’s creation rather than Whitman’s. All except one of the texts come from the
“Children of Adam” and “Calamus” clusters of Leaves of Grass. These are two sections
of the Leaves that have been largely neglected by composers up to this point, most likely
due to their vivid sexual imagery.
143
Whitman differentiated between amativeness (love

142
Sametz, interview.

143
Wannamaker, 4.

109
between men and women) in the “Children of Adam” set, and adhesiveness (love
between men) in the “Calamus” cluster.
144
While today the “Calamus” poems would
probably be considered the most controversial of the two, in 1882 it was the overt images
of heterosexual eros in the “Children of Adam” set that caused the Watch and Ward
Society to ban Leaves of Grass from Boston bookstores.
145
Both sets reflect Whitman’s
deeply-held belief that sex and the body are fundamental to human spirituality: “For
Whitman, honest sexuality was an essential step toward self-discovery and ultimate
oneness with God; to take pleasure in sex was to connect with the spiritual world as
well.”
146
These are widely considered to be among Whitman’s best poems. Wilson
Allen writes of the “Calamus” set: “What is so remarkable about the ‘Calamus’ poems is
not their theme and place in the ‘New Bible,’ but their sustained lyricism. They vibrate
with deep personal emotion, and some of them rank very high among the great love
poems in world literature, though the love is not traditional heterosexual love.”
147
Critics
have also suggested that the lyrical power, the “dignity and decorum of the high style”
employed by Whitman in his “Calamus” poems represents an attempt “to develop a
language that would allow same-sex relations to include the same kind and quality of
human experiences that characterized heterosexual relationships.”
148
Both poetic sets

144
Oliver, 60; Cavitch, 235.

145
Williams, 128. The Watch and Ward Society was founded by Methodist minister J. Frank Chase to ban
books he considered indecent or obscene.

146
Kenaston, 22.

147
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 71.

148
M. Wynn Thomas, “’Till I hit upon a name’: ‘Calamus’ and the Language of Love,” Huntington Library
Quarterly 73, no. 4 (December 2010): 647, 649.

110
certainly reflect Whitman’s “idealistic egalitarianism,” through their comparable
explorations of “that popular leveler and reminder of the underlying democratic unity of
all things, sexual love.”
149
To read these poems only as erotica would be a mistake,
however. Oliver writes:
Poems in both clusters also may be read as images of love that encompass
the larger, and, Whitman believed, more significant concept of the
brotherhood of man, of comradeship, friendship, a love sometimes
physical (though not necessarily sexual) but most often spiritual, a love he
used often as a metaphor for democracy. Democracy demands equality,
he believed, which can only be secured with love. And for Whitman, the
only sin was a belief in sin.
150

Although familiar with Whitman’s work at the time of the We two commission,
Sametz credits Erick Lichte, Artistic Director of Cantus, with the initial inspiration for a
poetic compilation drawn from Leaves of Grass. Lichte sent the composer a collection of
Whitman poems and poetic fragments that he particularly liked. The composer chose
those he instinctively found most compelling, and from them constructed a “dramatic
scenario” depicting a “voyage of awakening…of self-discovery.”
151
From beginning to
end, the poems present a process. In movement 1, the poetic text, “Earth, My Likeness,”
is both a fervent expression of passionate – and forbidden – love, and a stark admission
of fear and self-doubt. It transitions smoothly into movement 2, in which an
amalgamation of three texts presents a plea, as well as a reasoned argument, for the

149
Richard Pascal, “Walt Whitman and Woody Guthrie: American Prophet-Singers and Their People,”
Journal of American Studies 24, no. 1 (April 1990): 48.

150
Oliver, 60.

151
Sametz, interview.

111
significance of physical contact. Again, this implies that the desire for contact is a
forbidden one – contact between strangers, and perhaps also between men. Movement 3,
setting the text “The Frailest Leaves of Me,” dwells upon themes of secrecy and fear, as
well as the poet’s inability to hide his deepest secrets within his lyrics. In movement 4,
there is a significant shift in rhetorical tone to an unabashed love song, lacking the self-
consciousness of the previous texts. In Sametz’s words, this is the point in the work
where the narrator just says, “to Hell with it!”
152
“We Two, How Long We Were
Fool’d,” set in movement 5, extends this shift in tone with an ebullient and expansive
vision of the romantic relationship in cosmic terms. From fear to joy, from uncertainty to
epiphany, this set as a whole charts a personal journey of deepening self-awareness and
self-acceptance, where the ultimate redemption of the individual is achieved through the
experience of romantic love. Although the dramatic form is Sametz’s, the thematic
message is in keeping with Whitman’s spiritual and moral philosophy. As poet C. K.
Williams writes,
His poetry frames his moral argument, organizes it, but also by way of its
constantly compelling music, generates it. Morally, what he teaches is to be
accepting, to be generous, unselfish; to refuse to reject anyone else’s suffering, or
pain, or joy either; to not fear sex, to revel in it, all of it, every permutation of it;
to desire desire, to not mistrust the demands of the body, nor overvalue the
immateriality of the soul, because what we call the soul is so deeply and
intricately meshed with the body.
153

This argument is a universal one, and one that permeates all of Whitman’s work – not
just the male-centric “Calamus” poems. However, Whitman undeniably inhabits a

152
Ibid.

153
Williams, 185.

112
special place in the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) community, as one
whose courageous self-expression – and iconoclastic break with poetic tradition –
inspired generations to question societal restrictions on sexual orientation, and to accept
and express themselves as non-heterosexual individuals. Poet and gay rights activist
Alan Ginsberg noted that, “Whitman opened up a lot of political space, simply by
changing the poetry from a very fixed and classical form, to an open form that anybody
could participate in…Whitman broke out of centuries of formalistic speech and
repression of consciousness, repression of erotic consciousness, sensory
consciousness.”
154
In his interview, Steven Sametz acknowledged the continuing
relevance of Whitman’s inclusive message to the gay community. He also addressed his
decision to set texts from “Calamus,” many of which had never been set to music before:
“We live in a time when certain texts that were previously taboo can now be set to
music…the time is right.”
155
At the same time, Sametz stressed that We two – and any
other work of his – is a work of art first and foremost; its relevance is not restricted to any
particular group of people. Whitman’s attitude about his work was similarly ecumenical.
He never publicly admitted to being a homosexual (a term that didn’t exist in his time),
although there is plenty of evidence in both his poetry and his personal correspondence to
suggest it.
156
His intended audience was all of humanity. Ultimately, Whitman’s sexual

154
Alan Ginsberg, quoted in Zoe Trodd, “Poets to Come: Walt Whitman in the American Protest Literature
Tradition,” Mickle Street Review 19/20 (2011), under “Sights and Sounds,”
http://www.micklestreet.rutgers.edu [accessed January 12, 2012].

155
Sametz, interview.

156
Williams, 121.

113
orientation cannot define him as a cultural figure. His poetry – like Sametz’s music – has
long engaged a broad and diverse audience. This broad appeal is a key to its longevity in
our cultural history.

Poetic Analysis: “Earth, My Likeness”

/ ˘ / ˘
1 Earth, my likeness,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
2 Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / /
3 I now suspect that is not all;

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / /
4 I now suspect there is something fierce in you eligible to burst forth,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
5 For an athlete is enamour'd of me, and I of him,

˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘
6 But toward him there is something fierce and terrible in me eligible to

/ /
burst forth,

˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / /
7 I dare not tell it in words, not even in these songs.

Drawing direct comparisons between himself and broader conceptual ideas such
as nature or the cosmos was one of Whitman’s familiar tropes. As C. K. Williams notes,
“A good part of Whitman’s greatness resides in his fusions, his amalgamations of clearly

114
disparate spiritual dimensions.”
157
In “Earth, My Likeness,” this approach expresses the
tension between competing exterior and interior states, as well as the power of love and
passion. The parallel drawn between the poet and the Earth also suggests that love and
physical attraction are cosmic forces, transcending human experience.
Structurally, the poem alternates between two basic modes of language, and –
correspondingly – two different rhetorical viewpoints. Lines 1, 2 and 5 describe the
smooth, “impassive” exterior of the Earth, and the outwardly apparent (and socially
acceptable) relationship between Whitman and another man. Whitman’s use in line 5 of
the formal term, “enamour’d,” with its archaic replacement of “-ed” with “-‘d”
(technically known as syncope), counter-balances the use of the word “athlete,” which –
because of its strong association with physical activity – suggests the writer’s interest in
the other’s physical self. In these three lines, the metrical patterns are fairly smooth and
regular. In addition, lines 2 and 5 are connected by metrical similarities; both begin with
an anapest and end with an iamb:
˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
2 Though you look | so impas | sive, am | ple and spher | ic there,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
5 For an ath | lete is ena | mour'd of me, | and I | of him,

Lines 3, 4, 6, and 7, in contrast, describe the roiling passions lurking within both the
Earth and the poet, passions which are not only hidden from view but dangerous,
potentially uncontrollable, and of unknown power and scope. This is conveyed both in
the meaning of the words and in their metrical and sonic makeup. The phrase “eligible to

157
Ibid., 89.

115
burst forth,” appearing first in line 4, imparts through its initial string of unstressed
syllables a rapid acceleration of metric tempo, halted abruptly – urgently – by the
spondee of the final words “burst forth”:
/ ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / /
eligible to burst forth

“Eligible” seems like an unusually formal word to choose in this instance, but metrically
it serves its purpose very well. Line 6 contains the same text, preceded by “and terrible
in me,” which also includes a string of unstressed syllables. Once again, the flood of
dangerous emotion represented in those unchecked series of unstressed syllables is
abruptly stopped by the spondee “burst forth.” The expressive combination of so many
percussive consonants in these two words relays the sense that Whitman regains control
of his feelings only with great effort.
Despite the many parallels between lines 4 and 6, there is one critical difference:
the first word of line 6, “but,” is the turn of the poem. Originally derived from the
tradition of the Petrarchan sonnet, the turn signals a shift in tone, mood or rhetorical
stance.
158
In this case, the turn perhaps signals Whitman’s willingness to reveal himself
at last, and express what the previous lines only alluded to metaphorically: “But toward
him there is something fierce and terrible in me eligible to burst forth” (line 6). The final
line of the poem, however, returns to secrecy. Whitman’s choice of “I dare not” (line 7)
rather than “I cannot,” makes clear that the “something fierce” (line 6) referenced in this

158
Fussell, 116.

116
poem is something Whitman fears to reveal. The scansion of the final line also highlights
how beautifully the meter matches the sense of the line:
˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / /
8 I dare not tell it in words, not even in these songs.

The uneven series of stressed and unstressed syllables, particularly the repeated stressed
syllables – “dare not tell,” “words, not e-,” and “these songs” – give the line a rough,
halting gait fully indicative of a speaker under stress.
“Earth, My Likeness” progresses from a state of calm to distress. The opening
line, so serenely brief and idyllic, leads inexorably to a successively more intimate view
into the poetic psyche. Each layer of pretense removed reveals greater and greater
anxiety. Meter in particular serves to convey the inner struggle between hiding and
revealing the truth. By the final line, the narrator has returned to his original, protective
stance; the true subject of the poem, therefore, is the struggle.

Musical Analysis: “Earth, My Likeness”
At only 33 measures, the first movement of Steven Sametz’s We two is a short
setting of a short poem. The music conveys a similar precision and density of meaning as
its text. As discussed in the poetic analysis, a central feature of this poem is the contrast
between metrical regularity and irregularity, reflecting the poet’s struggle to maintain
control of (and hide) his true feelings. Also important is the parallelism connecting lines
4 and 6, as well as the poetic turn, or shift in mood, that occurs at the beginning of line 6.
All of these elements are reflected in Sametz’s setting.

117
Table 5A. Formal Structure of Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness”

Sections Poetic lines Affect

mm.1-8 1, 2 Calm
mm.8-14 3, 4 Calm frantic
mm.14-17 5 Dramatic peak
mm.18-24 6 Calm frantic
mm.25-34 7 Withdrawn

The setting begins “breathlessly, urgently” at a quick tempo but with fairly static
harmonic and melodic material, delivered in imitative polyphony.
159
Beginning at m.8,
with the text “I now suspect that is not all,” the intensity builds. The transition is marked
by a shift to a more emphatic, homophonic texture, a transition to duple meter (right on
that thorny word, “eligible”), more clearly defined harmonies, and increasingly rapid text
declamation. The dramatic peak occurs in mm.14-17, with the text, “For an athlete is
enamour’d of me, and I of him” (line 5). Mm.18-24 mirror mm.8-14, progressing as they
do from a sustained homophonic texture to ecstatic rising scales on the text, “to burst
forth.” Sametz thus responds to the repetition in the text with meaningful repetition in his
musical form. This musical parallelism highlights the contrast between poetic lines 5 and
7, and the impact of the poetic turn at the start of line 6. In line 5 (before the turn), the
poet lays his feelings bare; after the turn, he retreats from exposure, guarding himself
from scrutiny. The musical setting ends with a reprise of material from the beginning of
the piece, on the text “not even in these songs.” This creates a balanced musical form,
while conveying the circular sense of the poem: the poet begins and ends in a covert

159
Steven Sametz, We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010), 3.

mode of expression, outward calm hiding the passion and turmoil within. Likewise, the
harmonic content of the piece reinforces the fundamentally static rhetorical journey: the
piece begins and ends in a loosely established A minor, while the interior sections are
rooted in A major.
If the large-scale structure of this setting reflects a lack of progress,
and rhetorical, on the small scale Sametz brings to life the intensity constrained within
the stasis. His setting of “Earth, My Likeness” is full of details that demonstrate the
composer’s sensitivity to both the sound and the meaning of the
the paired musical phrases setting “though you look so impassive” and “ample and
spheric there” in mm.4-7 is a perfect complement to the imagery of a round globe
floating in space:

Figure 5A. Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness,” mm.4

Source: Steven Sametz, We two

In contrast, the transition from triple to duple meter in mm.12 is jarring; while somewhat
mitigated by m.11 (still triple meter, but a considerably faster rhythmic tempo), it is

160
© 2010 by E. C. Schirmer Music Co., a division of ECS Publishing, Boston, MA. Used by permission.
mode of expression, outward calm hiding the passion and turmoil within. Likewise, the
of the piece reinforces the fundamentally static rhetorical journey: the
piece begins and ends in a loosely established A minor, while the interior sections are
scale structure of this setting reflects a lack of progress,
and rhetorical, on the small scale Sametz brings to life the intensity constrained within
the stasis. His setting of “Earth, My Likeness” is full of details that demonstrate the
composer’s sensitivity to both the sound and the meaning of the text. The symmetry of
the paired musical phrases setting “though you look so impassive” and “ample and
7 is a perfect complement to the imagery of a round globe
Figure 5A. Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness,” mm.4-8
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
160

In contrast, the transition from triple to duple meter in mm.12 is jarring; while somewhat
mitigated by m.11 (still triple meter, but a considerably faster rhythmic tempo), it is

© 2010 by E. C. Schirmer Music Co., a division of ECS Publishing, Boston, MA. Used by permission.
118
mode of expression, outward calm hiding the passion and turmoil within. Likewise, the
of the piece reinforces the fundamentally static rhetorical journey: the
piece begins and ends in a loosely established A minor, while the interior sections are
scale structure of this setting reflects a lack of progress, both musical
and rhetorical, on the small scale Sametz brings to life the intensity constrained within
the stasis. His setting of “Earth, My Likeness” is full of details that demonstrate the
text. The symmetry of
the paired musical phrases setting “though you look so impassive” and “ample and
7 is a perfect complement to the imagery of a round globe

In contrast, the transition from triple to duple meter in mm.12 is jarring; while somewhat
mitigated by m.11 (still triple meter, but a considerably faster rhythmic tempo), it is
© 2010 by E. C. Schirmer Music Co., a division of ECS Publishing, Boston, MA. Used by permission.

precisely on the word “eligible,” with its string of unaccented syllables, that the shift
occurs:

Figure 5B. Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness,” mm.11
Source: Steven Sametz, We two

This is a direct response to the metric
distinctive in the poetic text, and Sametz allows it to stand out with comparable clarity in
his musical setting. Equally impressive is the composer’s approach to the words directly
following, “to burst forth.” The concentration of percussive consonants in this phrase
makes it challenging to sing; by setting the words to sixteenth
mm.23-24, the composer further magnifies this effect. The struggle of the performers
thus conveys the textual struggle of the poet. In both m.14 and m.24, a breath or a rest
also follows the word “forth”; just as the spondee on “burst forth” halts the acceleration
of the preceding unaccented syllables in the poem, the brief moment of silence after
“burst forth” in the setting abruptly stops the musical momentum. These examples
precisely on the word “eligible,” with its string of unaccented syllables, that the shift
Figure 5B. Sametz: “Earth, My Likeness,” mm.11-13

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
This is a direct response to the metrical quality of that particular word. The word is
distinctive in the poetic text, and Sametz allows it to stand out with comparable clarity in
his musical setting. Equally impressive is the composer’s approach to the words directly
th.” The concentration of percussive consonants in this phrase
makes it challenging to sing; by setting the words to sixteenth-note runs in mm.13
24, the composer further magnifies this effect. The struggle of the performers
textual struggle of the poet. In both m.14 and m.24, a breath or a rest
also follows the word “forth”; just as the spondee on “burst forth” halts the acceleration
of the preceding unaccented syllables in the poem, the brief moment of silence after
forth” in the setting abruptly stops the musical momentum. These examples
119
precisely on the word “eligible,” with its string of unaccented syllables, that the shift

al quality of that particular word. The word is
distinctive in the poetic text, and Sametz allows it to stand out with comparable clarity in
his musical setting. Equally impressive is the composer’s approach to the words directly
th.” The concentration of percussive consonants in this phrase
note runs in mm.13-14 and
24, the composer further magnifies this effect. The struggle of the performers
textual struggle of the poet. In both m.14 and m.24, a breath or a rest
also follows the word “forth”; just as the spondee on “burst forth” halts the acceleration
of the preceding unaccented syllables in the poem, the brief moment of silence after
forth” in the setting abruptly stops the musical momentum. These examples

120
demonstrate Sametz’s sensitivity to expression and meaning in the text, both at the macro
and the micro levels.

Poetic Analysis: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in the
Morning”

To You
1 Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should
you not speak to me?
2 And why should I not speak to you?

I Am He that Aches with Love
1 I am he that aches with amorous love;
2 Does the earth gravitate? does not all matter, aching, attract all matter?
3 So the body of me to all I meet or know.

As Adam Early in the Morning
1 As Adam early in the morning,
2 Walking forth from the bower refresh’d with sleep,
3 Behold me where I pass, hear my voice, approach,
4 Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass,
5 Be not afraid of my body.

The text for movement 2 draws from three different Whitman poems: “To You,”
“I Am He that Aches with Love,” and “As Adam Early in the Morning.” Sametz takes
only the first lines of “I Am He that Aches with Love” and “To You.” He uses “As
Adam Early in the Morning” in its entirety; consequently, this poetic analysis will focus
on that text. Although the three poems are found in different parts of Leaves of Grass,
they share a common theme of physical attraction – either to other men, to strangers, or
“to all [Whitman] meet[s] or know[s].” (“To You” line 2) Furthermore, Whitman does
not simply describe feelings or actions in these texts; he argues for their validity in the

121
face of social taboos. In “To You,” he questions why strangers may not “speak” to one
another if they feel a “desire” to do so (line 1). Max Cavitch notes that the term stranger
was “a word paradoxically charged for Whitman with accumulated imaginings of a world
of improved intimacies.”
161
In “I Am He That Aches With Amorous Love,” Whitman
argues for the universality of mutual attraction by comparing physical bodies to celestial
bodies. In “As Adam Early in the Morning,” he imagines a moment of physical (not
necessarily sexual) intimacy with the first man on Earth, in the Garden of Eden – the
Biblical birthplace of both human civilization and Original Sin. Simply reading all of
these poems as lightly veiled erotica would do them – and Whitman – a real injustice,
however. “To You” is part of the “Inscriptions” cluster, the opening group of poems in
Leaves of Grass. Charles M. Oliver writes:
The word inscriptions is used here as a sort of Whitman signature to the
world – an offering of ideas and images that evoke an intimacy between
the poet and reader, an invitation to join in an adventure to discover and
experience possible aspects of the human condition, some of the
experiences to be mystical.
162

“I Am He that Aches with Love” and “As Adam Early in the Morning” appear in the
“Children of Adam” cluster. Although the set revolves around the themes of
heterosexual love and procreation, these two poems do not invoke the feminine in any
particular way. “As Adam Early in the Morning” implies an encounter between two men.
Both describe powerful physical attraction: a significant, meaningful thread that runs
through much of Whitman’s work:

161
Cavitch, 242.

162
Oliver, 99.

122
Whitman knew that religious emotion and sexual hunger had common origins in
his psyche…It is significant that Whitman does not equate religious ecstasy with
sexual orgasm but with sexual desire…Thus the permeating sexuality in
Whitman’s poems had both a personal and an intellectual-aesthetic function, and
was in the broadest sense a union of his body and mind, resulting in psychological
therapy and sociological program.
163

The erotic implications in these poems represent only one layer of embedded meaning.
Whitman portrays an intimacy that is not just physical, but personal, spiritual, and
ideological as well.
The composer rather than the poet determined the overall form of the movement 2
text. Consequently, a detailed analysis of its structure is not suitable to this particular
study. However, the third poem appears in its entirety, so we will examine it closely here
before moving on to the musical analysis.
˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
1 As Adam early in the morning,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
2 Walking forth from the bower refresh’d with sleep,

˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ /
3 Behold me where I pass, hear my voice, approach,

/ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
4 Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass,

/ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
5 Be not afraid of my body.

163
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 130.

123
The poem is comprised of just five lines, with a structure essentially expressed
through syntax. The first two lines are a dependent clause
164
introduced by the
subordinate conjunction,
165
“as.” With this one word, in fact, Whitman conveys the fact
that Adam waking and “walking forth” (line 2) is less important than what comes after:
the string of actions – “behold” (line 3), “hear” (line 3), “approach” (line 3), “touch” (line
4), and “be not afraid” (line 5). Between lines 2 and 3, Whitman also makes a shift in
grammatical mood from indicative
166
to imperative
167
. The syntax in lines 1 and 2
establishes an expectation that the third line will begin with a simple present tense verb
(“beholds me”) or a simple past tense verb (“beheld me”); instead, the verbs become
commands. The main clause contained in lines 3-5 also suggests by its structure a
hierarchy. There are three actions contained in line 3, while only one in line 4 –
reiterated for emphasis and greater specificity. Line 5, paradoxically, attains the highest
importance due to its brevity: it breaks the established pattern of progressively longer
lines, and is thereby emphasized. In addition, the brevity of the line mirrors the honesty
of the words. Finally, the syntax of the individual lines reinforces in a subtle way the
sense of the words. In line 3, the three actions of seeing (“behold”), hearing (“hear my
voice”), and moving (“approach”) are presented in progressively shorter phrases:
------------------------------------------- ------------------------ -----------------

164
A dependent clause contains a subject and a verb, but is not a complete sentence. In a complete
sentence, what is contained in the dependent clause is assumed to be less important than what is contained
in the main clause.

165
A subordinate conjunction directly precedes a dependent clause, marking it as such.

166
The indicative mood expresses factual statements or positive beliefs.

167
The imperative mood expresses direct commands, prohibitions and requests.

124
3 Behold me where I pass, hear my voice, approach,

The increasing density of these action verbs, as well as the commas, serves to slow the
metrical tempo – perhaps suggesting Adam as he slows his pace to observe and then
approach the narrator.

Musical Analysis: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in the
Morning”

Sametz’s conglomerate text in movement 2 is included below, with line breaks
denoting the transitions between the three source texts:
1 Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should
you not speak to me?

2 I am he that aches with amorous love.

3 As Adam early in the morning,
4 Walking forth from the bower refresh’d with sleep,
5 Behold me where I pass, hear my voice, approach,
6 Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass,
7 Be not afraid of my body.

Like the poetic text, the musical setting for this movement has three main sections;
however, the textual divisions between poems do not coincide with the musical ones:

Table 5B. Formal Structure of Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” /
“As Adam Early in the Morning”

Section Text lines Source poem

1 mm.34-45 1, 2 “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love”

2 mm.46-50 3, 4, 5 “As Adam Early in the Morning”

3 mm.51-54 6 “As Adam Early in the Morning”
mm.55-57 7 “As Adam Early in the Morning”

The lines from “To You” and “I Am He that Aches with Love” are grouped together in
mm.34-45, carried by a high tenor soloist. While the chorus weaves a harmonically static
web of sound (repeating –
above, solitary and isolated.

Figure 5C. Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in
the Morning,” mm. 44-45

Source: Steven Sametz, We two

Through this voicing, the composer reflects the narrator’s loneliness, accounting for his
desire for personal contact with another. The first three lines of “As Adam Early in the
Morning” appear in the central, contrasting section.

The lines from “To You” and “I Am He that Aches with Love” are grouped together in
45, carried by a high tenor soloist. While the chorus weaves a harmonically static
– interestingly – the word “stranger”), the solo voice floats
above, solitary and isolated.
Figure 5C. Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in
45
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
Through this voicing, the composer reflects the narrator’s loneliness, accounting for his
desire for personal contact with another. The first three lines of “As Adam Early in the
Morning” appear in the central, contrasting section.
125
The lines from “To You” and “I Am He that Aches with Love” are grouped together in
45, carried by a high tenor soloist. While the chorus weaves a harmonically static
lo voice floats
Figure 5C. Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in

Through this voicing, the composer reflects the narrator’s loneliness, accounting for his
desire for personal contact with another. The first three lines of “As Adam Early in the

Figure 5D. Sametz: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in
the Morning,” mm. 46-47

Source: Steven Sametz, We two

The jarring transition to a
opening lines of this poem are formal, utilizing elevated language such as “bower,”
“refresh’d,” and “behold.” The reference to Adam also sets the poem’s location in the
Garden of Eden, within the locus of the sanctified Biblical tradition. The music is
likewise more formal and traditional in style. The homophonic texture, largely triadic
harmonies, and rapid harmonic tempo contribute to a sense of straightforward purpose
and efficiency. The final two lines of text appear in the third section of the piece
carried primarily by a tenor soloist over an unobtrusive, supportive texture in the chorus.
The composer chooses to place a sectional break between lines 5 and 6 of the text
(lines 3 and 3 of “As Adam Early in the Morning”). While many elements of
the original poem suggest a break between lines 2 and 3, the dramatic focus of the work

168
© 2010 by E. C. Schirmer Music Co., a division of ECS Publishing, Boston, MA. Used by permission.

z: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in
47

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
168

The jarring transition to a tutti texture in m.46 mirrors a shift in textual character. The
g lines of this poem are formal, utilizing elevated language such as “bower,”
“refresh’d,” and “behold.” The reference to Adam also sets the poem’s location in the
Garden of Eden, within the locus of the sanctified Biblical tradition. The music is
se more formal and traditional in style. The homophonic texture, largely triadic
harmonies, and rapid harmonic tempo contribute to a sense of straightforward purpose
and efficiency. The final two lines of text appear in the third section of the piece
carried primarily by a tenor soloist over an unobtrusive, supportive texture in the chorus.
The composer chooses to place a sectional break between lines 5 and 6 of the text
(lines 3 and 3 of “As Adam Early in the Morning”). While many elements of
the original poem suggest a break between lines 2 and 3, the dramatic focus of the work

by E. C. Schirmer Music Co., a division of ECS Publishing, Boston, MA. Used by permission.
126
z: “To You” / “I Am He that Aches with Love” / “As Adam Early in

texture in m.46 mirrors a shift in textual character. The
g lines of this poem are formal, utilizing elevated language such as “bower,”
“refresh’d,” and “behold.” The reference to Adam also sets the poem’s location in the
Garden of Eden, within the locus of the sanctified Biblical tradition. The music is
se more formal and traditional in style. The homophonic texture, largely triadic
harmonies, and rapid harmonic tempo contribute to a sense of straightforward purpose
and efficiency. The final two lines of text appear in the third section of the piece – again,
carried primarily by a tenor soloist over an unobtrusive, supportive texture in the chorus.
The composer chooses to place a sectional break between lines 5 and 6 of the text
(lines 3 and 3 of “As Adam Early in the Morning”). While many elements of syntax in
the original poem suggest a break between lines 2 and 3, the dramatic focus of the work
by E. C. Schirmer Music Co., a division of ECS Publishing, Boston, MA. Used by permission.

127
is lines 4 and 5. The poet yearns for physical contact. It is not enough for Adam to look,
hear, and walk toward the poet; he must touch him – and to do so, he must not
“be…afraid of [his] body.” In his careful arrangement and setting of these texts, Steven
Sametz demonstrates his understanding of the thematic content, and the expressive
potential of mood and style.

Poetic Analysis: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me”

/ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / || ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘
1 Here the | frailest | leaves of | me and | yet my | strongest | lasting,

/ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / || ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘
2 Here I | shade and | hide my | thoughts, I my | self do | not ex | pose them,

˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘
3 And yet | they expose | me more than | all my | other | poems.

The first two lines of this poem exhibit remarkably regular meter for a work by
Whitman. Paul Fussell writes that “when a free-verse poem does surprise us by
introducing a moment of recognizable traditional rhythm, such a rhythm should be
related to meaning. As it almost always is in masters like Whitman and Pound.”
169
In
this case, the first two lines are almost pedestrian in their similarities: both are essentially
composed in trochaic heptameter (that is, they each contain seven poetic feet in trochaic
meter), with the exception of one dactyl substitution in position four of line 2. In both,
the fourth position is also split by a caesura – marking the exact center point of the line,

169
Fussell, 85.

128
in terms of syllables. This serves to highlight, in an obvious and conventional way, the
contrasts presented between frailty and strength (line 1), and hiding and exposing (line 2).
The third line, therefore, is striking in its departure from this established pattern. The
first foot is iambic instead of trochaic, and the first two words, “and yet” hint that this is
the poetic turn, heralding a significant shift in mood or meaning. The trisyllable dactylic
feet that follow further disrupt the metric flow, even as the words themselves contradict
the bland statements preceding them. The first two lines are supremely self-conscious
poetry, so full of conventionalism that they scarcely communicate anything at all. In the
final line of the poem, the poet becomes forthright rather than artful, as the meter of the
poem changes from regular and “poetic” to irregular and speech-like.
Viewed as a commentary on poetry itself, this text reflects the fact that Whitman’s
innovations were in part a reaction against the prevailing conservatism he saw in
contemporary society and literature.
170
He dared to write about things that others
considered unseemly or – at the least – unworthy of being set to poetry, and he likewise
rejected the traditional structural elements that, for many, defined poetry as a genre.
Many 19
th
-century critics of Whitman did not view his work as poetry at all: “…they
were so accustomed to rhyme and meter in poetry that they thought any composition
without them was not poetry.”
171
Whitman consciously set out to create a new kind of
poetic writing, distinct from any previously established category or convention.
172

170
Pascal, 48.

171
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 156.

172
Ibid., 116.

129
One other interesting feature of this poem, particularly given its theme of
exposure, is the web of connections drawn between the dominant images of leaves,
thoughts, and poems. The mention of “leaves” in the first line is surely a nod to the title
of the full poetic volume, Leaves of Grass, but “leaves” could also be a reference to the
pages of the book, and the poems printed on them. The second line, beginning “Here I
shade and hide my thoughts,” extends the botanical trope of “leaves” which provide both
shade and cover. (Whitman claims vehemently here that he does not wish to expose his
thoughts; yet this seems disingenuous when the “leaves” in question are presented in a
published work of literature.) The third line of the poem confounds this established line
of connections with an unclear pronoun: “And yet they [emphasis added] expose me
more than all my other poems.” Does “they” refer to the thoughts referenced in line 2?
The parallels between the end of line 2 and the beginning of line 3 certainly would
suggest it: “I…expose them” (line 2) is immediately countered with “they expose me”
(line 3). If so, however, then why is “they” in line 3 compared to “all my other poems” –
suggesting that “they” actually refers to some subset of poems (or leaves?) contained
within his book? As he did using meter, Whitman also uses syntax to make the third line
of “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me” a catalyst for expanding meaning. The unclear
syntax deliberately blurs the distinction between leaves, thoughts, and poems – and,
ultimately, the self. It is Whitman who may be exposed by the poem: Whitman, the
“poetic self.”
173
How appropriate, then, that his struggle to “hide” is played out in the
deliberately ambiguous language of this poem. The use of poetic form to convey

173
Williams, 56.

130
meaning is not unique to Whitman by any means, but what Gay Wilson Allen terms
“expressive form” was a hallmark of his style: “Not only did he find self-expression in
the act of poetic expression; the form itself was expressive.”
174

Musical Analysis: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me”
Steven Sametz’s ethereal setting of this text reflects many of the poem’s structural
features, as well as its overall message. However, it also mitigates some of the ambiguity
highlighted in the poetic analysis. The end result is a compelling amalgamation of the
sensibilities of both poet and composer. In keeping with the poetic form, the musical
structure reflects a definitive break between lines 2 and 3:

Table 5C. Formal Structure of Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me”

Section Poetic lines Musical texture Voicing

1 mm.58-71 1, 2 polyphonic homophonic chorus & solo quartet

2 mm.72-76 3 (1
st
half) polyphonic homophonic solo quartet
mm.77-81 3 (2
nd
half) polyphonic homophonic chorus & solo quartet

Likewise, the composer recognizes the natural caesuras that evenly divide lines 1 and 2:
the solo quartet sings a long held note on “me” in m.65; the text is subsequently
distributed in two-measure intervals, highlighting the unusual regularity of Whitman’s
meter.

174
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 160.

Figure 5E. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.66
Source: Steven Sametz, We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).

131
Figure 5E. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.66-72
(Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
131

132
Sametz does not, however, make anything of the dualities presented in the first two lines;
rather, he sets them as a gradual progression from loose polyphony to homophony,
crystallizing on the words “expose them.” The text is primarily carried by the solo
quartet, but the chorus joins in toward the end of the section. The underlying harmonies
support this process; it is only in mm.70-71 that we finally hear a satisfying V7 – I
cadence. The result is a musical realization of the broad sense of the text. As the texture
coalesces over 14 measures, it sounds (if one could hear a visual image) as if the music –
and the meaning it conveys – slowly comes into focus. Focus, clarity, perception, and
exposure: these are what Whitman says he fears, and yet paradoxically enables, through
his poetry. Sametz’s musical setting realizes this idea in sonic form.
Following the cadence in m.71, the third line of text is taken up by the solo
quartet (doubled in whispers by the chorus). The melodic material and polyphonic
texture recalls the beginning of the movement, and the texture similarly coalesces to a
homophonic cadence in m.76. In mm.77-81, this process repeats in simplified form. The
final two sections of the movement, each five measures long, are essentially shorter
versions of the first: in each, the shift in texture from polyphonic to homophonic gives
musical form to the textual theme of exposure.
As this movement demonstrates, a composer may faithfully serve the spirit of a
poem while altering some of its fundamental elements in the process of setting it to
music. Sametz’s approach to “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me” sacrifices some basic
features explored in the poetic analysis. For example, the dramatic peak occurring in
m.71, as well as the choice to set the beginning of poetic line 3 as a recall of earlier

musical material, undermines the textual
Likewise, the choice to split the final line of text, and to repeat the words “more than all,”
results in a balanced pair of phrases:

Figure 5F. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.73
Source: Steven Sametz, We two

Figure 5G. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.77
Source: Steven Sametz, We two

musical material, undermines the textual contrast between poetic lines 1-
Likewise, the choice to split the final line of text, and to repeat the words “more than all,”
results in a balanced pair of phrases:
Figure 5F. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.73-76, solo quartet

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
Figure 5G. Sametz: “Here the Frailest Leaves of Me,” mm.77-81, chorus

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
133
-2 and 3.
Likewise, the choice to split the final line of text, and to repeat the words “more than all,”
76, solo quartet
81, chorus

134
The poetic analysis instead suggests that the metrical irregularity of poetic line 3 conveys
a meaningful contrast between convention and innovation. Nevertheless, what the
composer has created is a musical form that effectively expresses the fundamental
message of the poetic text. The initial presentation of the coalescing form (mm.58-71)
demonstrates the parallel processes of the unfolding of the text and the clarifying of the
texture. The composer repeats this process twice (mm.72-76, mm.77-81), establishing a
sense of inevitability; the poet repeatedly struggles to hide (returning to polyphony), but
the words themselves inexorably reveal him (returning to homophony). The musical
realization captures the core message of exposure beautifully. The differences between
the poetic analysis and the musical setting reflect two valid readings of the same poem;
recognizing and considering these differences provides insight into the musical work
which can impact a conductor’s interpretive choices.

Poetic Analysis: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes”

/ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
1 Not heat flames up and consumes,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
2 Not sea-waves hurry in and out,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
3 Not the air delicious and dry, the air of ripe summer, bears lightly along white

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
down-balls of myriads of seeds,

/ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
4 Wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may;

135
˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
5 Not these, O none of these more than the flames of me, consuming, burning for

˘ / ˘ / /
his love whom I love,

˘ / / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
6 O none more than I hurrying in and out;

˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
7 Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never give up? O I the same,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
8 O nor down-balls nor perfumes, nor the high rain-emitting clouds, are borne

˘ ˘ / ˘ /
through the open air,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
9 Any more than my soul is borne through the open air,

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
10 Wafted in all directions O love, for friendship, for you.

This poem is basically comprised of two four-line sections (lines 1-4 and 5-8)
connected by parallel imagery, and a final couplet (lines 9-10) drawing all of the
comparisons to a meaningful conclusion. A distinctive initial word, “not,” sets off lines
1-3; each offers a compelling description of what the subject of the poem is not, from
flames to waves to gentle breezes. Line 4 essentially completes line 3. Lines 5-8 provide
an answer. Like lines 1-4, these are unified by a repeated word – in this case, the
exclamation “O”: in lines 5 and 6, “O none”; at the end of line 7, “O I the same”; and in
line 8, “O nor.” The heat of the fire burns no hotter than Whitman’s passion; the urgency
and steadfastness of the waves is no greater than Whitman’s; the seeds, scents, and clouds
float no more freely than Whitman’s soul, buoyed by love. The meaning of the text and

136
the repetition of particular words and images establish these parallels between lines 1-4
and 5-8. The words “flames” and “consumes” of line 1 are repeated in line 5; the phrase
“hurry in and out” of line 2 is repeated in line 6, and “hurry” again in line 7; the “down-
balls” and “ripe” (i.e. fragrant) air are repeated in the “down-balls” and “perfumes” of
line 8. Lines 8 and 9 are also connected in this way, with the repetition of the text,
“borne through the open air.” Although line 9 completes the reasoning of line 8, it is the
mention of Whitman’s soul that functions as a pivot, the turn in the poetic form that
reveals a new, deeper meaning.
The central imagery in this poem invokes the basic elements of fire, water, and
air. Whitman describes his love in elemental terms. The descriptions of fire and water
convey a sense of urgent, purposeful activity (flames “consume”; tides “hurry,” “seek,”
and “never give up”), while those of the air are peaceful, serene, and passive (“bears
lightly along,” “wafted, sailing gracefully,” “are borne”). Whitman claims both the
active and passive modes in his elaboration of his feelings, but the final two lines of the
poem give clear precedence to the passive: his soul is “wafted in all directions” just as the
down-balls are “wafted” in line 4. For Whitman, passionate love – and the intense desire
for union with the object of that love – requires a relinquishing of the self, a complete
surrender of control. The prominence of elemental imagery in the poem elevates this
desired coupling beyond the physical; it is a spiritual union that Whitman invokes.
Surprisingly, this is a traditional idea: “as with so much romantic love poetry, the ecstatic

137
enlargement of consciousness that [Whitman’s] tropes faithfully register results from
being transported beyond the ordinary bounds of selfhood.”
175

This contrast between the active and the passive is heightened by Whitman’s
subtle use of meter. Lines 1 and 2 both begin with a spondee (“Not heat,” “Not sea-“),
giving weight and intensity to the words that follow. Line 3, in contrast, begins with an
anapest (“Not the air”), and continues with a greater number of triplet groupings and –
consequently – unaccented syllables. This creates a sonic quality of lightness and
dexterity. Similar metrical contrasts are evident between lines 5-7 and line 8, with its
dancing triple rhythms on “O nor down-balls nor perfumes, nor the high” and “through
the open.” Love includes the intensity of rising flames and relentless waves, and the
freedom and serenity of a seed floating on a breeze; perhaps intensity is followed by a
soul-expanding release. Reading this as sexual imagery would certainly not be
inappropriate, but for Whitman, the ecstatic served as both a central element of his
method (particularly in the early part of his career, when this poem was written) and an
expression of the essential function of his poetry: “If there is something like a religious
purpose to the work, it is to activate imagination rather than pacify it, to excite
consciousness rather than bestill it, to liberate rather than contain it, and, not incidentally,
to demonstrate that it isn’t only the metaphorizing genius of the poets that can situate us
with a blazing awareness in the world.”
176

175
Wynn Thomas, 649.

176
Williams, 13, 152.

138
Musical Analysis: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes”

This is a wonderful, vivid poem, and one that seems eminently suited to musical
setting. Sametz’s setting demonstrates a particular sensitivity to the lyrical rhythmic play
of the poetic language, especially when it informs the sense of the words. The setting
also deviates significantly from the poetic form, but with a highly successful end result.
In some cases, what works well for poetry does not necessarily work best for music.
The musical deviation from poetic form results from the fact that Sametz chooses
to group line 5 with the first four lines of the poem, rather than with lines 6-8. Not only
is this reflected in the musical structure, but also in the text printed at the beginning of the
score.
177
This results in line groupings of 5+5 instead of 4+4+2. The 5+5 grouping
obscures the parallels between lines 1-4 and 5-8, as well as the rhetorical importance of
the final two lines of the poem. However, there is a meaningful tradeoff. Sametz’s
rearrangement of the poetic lines results in a dramatic peak occurring at the end of each
5-line grouping:

Table 5D. Formal Structure of Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes”

Section Poetic lines Affect

mm.82-100 1-5 introspection passion

mm.101-127 6-10 introspection passion

mm.128-135 10 (repeated) warmth, tenderness

177
Although Whitman changed the formatting of this poem in different editions of Leaves of Grass,
177
in no
edition is there a space between lines 5 and 6. In his interview, the composer noted that the line break in
the printed text was a printing error.

While the resulting form may not parallel the poetic analysis in this study, it produces a
satisfying dramatic and musical trajectory in keeping with the spirit of the poem. Lines 5
and 10 contain the two clear avowals of love in the poem; they are natura
arrival in the poetic narrative. Furthermore, while line 5 is connected to lines 6
by the repeated exclamation, “O,” it also begins with the word “not”
unifying feature of lines 1
Each of the two main sections of the piece (mm.82
introspectively and slowly build to a climactic peak. This form naturally suits the flow of
energy in the poetic text. From a musical standpoint, an alloca
poetic analysis would not necessarily have been better.
Unlike the previous three movements in
homophonic. This allows for a greater focus on the declamation of text rather than on
musical representations of its meaning. The composer exploits the rich overtone palette
of the male chorus, emphasizing the warmth and lyricism of the text, and sets each word
and line with care. The first three poetic lines provide a good example. Each begins with
the word “not,” and the first two are approximately the same length (7 and 8 syllables,
respectively). Sametz sets the first two lines as regular, two

Figure 5H. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.82

Source: Steven Sametz, We two
While the resulting form may not parallel the poetic analysis in this study, it produces a
satisfying dramatic and musical trajectory in keeping with the spirit of the poem. Lines 5
and 10 contain the two clear avowals of love in the poem; they are natura
arrival in the poetic narrative. Furthermore, while line 5 is connected to lines 6
by the repeated exclamation, “O,” it also begins with the word “not” – an important
unifying feature of lines 1-4. The composer’s choice, therefore, is easily defensible.
Each of the two main sections of the piece (mm.82-100 and mm.101-127) begin
introspectively and slowly build to a climactic peak. This form naturally suits the flow of
energy in the poetic text. From a musical standpoint, an allocation of text based upon the
poetic analysis would not necessarily have been better.
Unlike the previous three movements in We two, movement 4 is primarily
homophonic. This allows for a greater focus on the declamation of text rather than on
sentations of its meaning. The composer exploits the rich overtone palette
of the male chorus, emphasizing the warmth and lyricism of the text, and sets each word
and line with care. The first three poetic lines provide a good example. Each begins with
the word “not,” and the first two are approximately the same length (7 and 8 syllables,
respectively). Sametz sets the first two lines as regular, two-bar phrases in mm.82
Figure 5H. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.82-86

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
139
While the resulting form may not parallel the poetic analysis in this study, it produces a
satisfying dramatic and musical trajectory in keeping with the spirit of the poem. Lines 5
and 10 contain the two clear avowals of love in the poem; they are natural points of
arrival in the poetic narrative. Furthermore, while line 5 is connected to lines 6-8 in part
an important
is easily defensible.
127) begin
introspectively and slowly build to a climactic peak. This form naturally suits the flow of
tion of text based upon the
, movement 4 is primarily
homophonic. This allows for a greater focus on the declamation of text rather than on
sentations of its meaning. The composer exploits the rich overtone palette
of the male chorus, emphasizing the warmth and lyricism of the text, and sets each word
and line with care. The first three poetic lines provide a good example. Each begins with
the word “not,” and the first two are approximately the same length (7 and 8 syllables,
bar phrases in mm.82-86:

The additional syllable in line 2 adds to the string of eighth notes at the end of the second
phrase (m.85), a subtle but effective bit of text painting on “hurry in and out.” In m.86,
however, the tenors break the established pattern, and begin the third phrase two beats
early. This small gesture of barely restrained enthusiasm jump
lengthy – musical phrase, setting in motion the broader dramatic progression towards the
peak in m.100. Further examples of the composer’s sensitivity to text are easy to find. In
mm.87-93, prominent use of triplet rhythms reflects not only the gentle imagery of a soft
summer breeze, but also the triplet groupings in the textual meter in poetic

Figure 5J. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.87

Source: Steven Sametz, We two

The additional syllable in line 2 adds to the string of eighth notes at the end of the second
phrase (m.85), a subtle but effective bit of text painting on “hurry in and out.” In m.86,
s break the established pattern, and begin the third phrase two beats
early. This small gesture of barely restrained enthusiasm jump-starts the third
musical phrase, setting in motion the broader dramatic progression towards the
in m.100. Further examples of the composer’s sensitivity to text are easy to find. In
93, prominent use of triplet rhythms reflects not only the gentle imagery of a soft
summer breeze, but also the triplet groupings in the textual meter in poetic
Figure 5J. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.87-92
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
140
The additional syllable in line 2 adds to the string of eighth notes at the end of the second
phrase (m.85), a subtle but effective bit of text painting on “hurry in and out.” In m.86,
s break the established pattern, and begin the third phrase two beats
starts the third – and quite
musical phrase, setting in motion the broader dramatic progression towards the
in m.100. Further examples of the composer’s sensitivity to text are easy to find. In
93, prominent use of triplet rhythms reflects not only the gentle imagery of a soft
summer breeze, but also the triplet groupings in the textual meter in poetic lines 3 and 4:

The A pedal tone in the bass in mm.88
air that “bears lightly along” the floating seeds of the poem. Sametz transitions to
polyphonic writing for expressive effect occasionally, as in mm.105
flow of water and the urgency of seeking are beautifully realized through a rising
contrapuntal dialogue between sections on the text, “Does the tide hurry, seeking
something, and never give up?”:

Figure 5K. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.102
Source: Steven Sametz, We two

Harmony is used to great effect
word “love” coincides with an F

The A pedal tone in the bass in mm.88-89 supports the upper voices very much like the
along” the floating seeds of the poem. Sametz transitions to
polyphonic writing for expressive effect occasionally, as in mm.105-106, where both the
flow of water and the urgency of seeking are beautifully realized through a rising
between sections on the text, “Does the tide hurry, seeking
something, and never give up?”:
Figure 5K. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.102-110
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
Harmony is used to great effect as well, as in m.124, where the dramatic arrival on the
word “love” coincides with an F-sharp major chord:
141
89 supports the upper voices very much like the
along” the floating seeds of the poem. Sametz transitions to
106, where both the
flow of water and the urgency of seeking are beautifully realized through a rising
between sections on the text, “Does the tide hurry, seeking
110

as well, as in m.124, where the dramatic arrival on the

Figure 5L. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.121
Source: Steven Sametz, We two

This harmony remains the “home” chord through the remainder of the piece. In the
context of the movement, the idea of love is explicitly connected to this F
harmony. In the larger work as a whole, this harmonic arrival functions as a resoluti
the instability and insecurity of the previous movements.

Poetic Analysis: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d”

/ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
1 We two, how long we were fool'd,

/ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘
2 Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
3 We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return,

˘ ˘ / / / / ˘ ˘ / /
4 We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
5 We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks,

Figure 5L. Sametz: “Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes,” mm.121-124

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
This harmony remains the “home” chord through the remainder of the piece. In the
context of the movement, the idea of love is explicitly connected to this F
harmony. In the larger work as a whole, this harmonic arrival functions as a resoluti
the instability and insecurity of the previous movements.
Poetic Analysis: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d”

/ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
We two, how long we were fool'd,
/ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes,
˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return,
/ / / / ˘ ˘ / /
We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark,
˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks,
142

This harmony remains the “home” chord through the remainder of the piece. In the
context of the movement, the idea of love is explicitly connected to this F-sharp major
harmony. In the larger work as a whole, this harmonic arrival functions as a resolution to
Poetic Analysis: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d”

143
˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
6 We are oaks, we grow in the openings side by side,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
7 We browse, we are two among the wild herds spontaneous as any,

˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘
8 We are two fishes swimming in the sea together,

˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / / / ˘ ˘
9 We are what locust blossoms are, we drop scent around lanes mornings and

/ ˘
evenings,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘
10 We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals,

˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / /
11 We are two predatory hawks, we soar above and look down,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
12 We are two resplendent suns, we it is who balance ourselves orbic and stellar, we

˘ ˘ / / ˘
are as two comets,

˘ / / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
13 We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring on prey,

˘ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
14 We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,

˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
15 We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling over each other

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
and interwetting each other,

/ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘
16 We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious, impervious,

144
/ ˘ / / / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘
17 We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and influence of the

/
globe,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / / /
18 We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we two,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / /
19 We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy.

This poem offers a vision of cyclical transformation, presented in the form of one
of Whitman’s famous catalogs. Every line except line 2 begins with the word “we,” a
technique is known as anaphora. Wilson Allen prefers the term “psychic rhyme.”
178

When combined with regular, end-stopped lines – as it is here – this style is also
categorized as “oracular” by John Hollander.
179
Catalogs of this type are not uncommon
in the Bible, which is one of the reasons that the King James Bible is frequently cited as a
central influence on Walt Whitman’s innovative poetic style.
180
This kind of repetition
lends an elevated quality to the text, but also gives all items mentioned on the list equal
weight, which in Whitman leads to some interesting parallels. In this poem, for example,
the “coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals” appears only two lines prior to “two
resplendent suns…orbic and stellar”; likewise, prowling, “fang’d and four-footed” beasts
in line 13 lead directly to clouds “driving overhead” in line 14. The expression of a
unified concept through diverse description is central to Whitman’s poetic style:

178
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 161.

179
Fussell, 80.

180
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 167.

145
“complexity…all of whose parts are revealed…is a key element in Whitman’s aesthetic,
perhaps its essence. Perhaps, too, it’s a part of his ambition to make a poem that would
be emblematic of American democracy while at the same time embodying it.”
181
A poem
structured in this way also confers upon its author an intrinsic omnipotence: “the
montage-like progression of the scenes contributes to the impression of mystical insight:
the breadth, precision, and temporal telescoping of events and images signify the
visionary’s ability to ‘see farther’ in space and time, and to ‘see’ the relationship of detail
and overview, and of past, present, and future.”
182

The overall structure of the poem is straightforward. Lines 1-3 introduce the
central ideas of freedom gained through a sudden epiphany (“how long we were fool’d,”
“escape”) and cyclical transformation (“transmuted,” “now we return”). Line 2 begins,
“Now transmuted,” rather than “We,” as all of the other lines begin; this highlights the
idea of change. It is also both obvious and significant that this dramatic change has
occurred for two people, rather than just the author himself. Lines 4-17 contain the
catalog. Whitman’s vision encompasses the totality of life on earth in a list that grows
organically from plants and rocks, to animals, to the forces controlling weather and the
rotation of the earth. While the list appears somewhat haphazard at first glance, there is
an underlying logic that connects each successive entry to the last in a meaningful way.
This represents the core of the “organic principle” expounded upon by Whitman in the
Preface to the first (1855) edition of Leaves of Grass: “The rhyme and uniformity of

181
Williams, 23.

182
Pascal, 47.

146
perfect poems show the free growth of metrical laws and bud from them as unerringly
and loosely as lilacs or roses on a bush, and take shapes as compact as the shapes of
chestnuts and oranges and melons and pears, and shed the perfume impalpable to
form.”
183
Re-stated by Wilson Allen, “it means that art is also a product of nature and
cosmic processes and grows or develops like an organism.”
184

These organic connections provide coherence and structure to the text. The
imagery of plants and trees in line 4 connects easily to that of rocks in line 5; both plants
and rocks are “bedded in the ground.” Likewise are the oaks in line 6, but the focus shifts
upward as the oaks “grow.” The herd animals of line 7 are easy to imagine foraging
among the oaks; the fishes in line 8 often live – like their mammalian counterparts in the
previous line – in large groups. However, the easy flow of primarily iambic and
anapestic rhythms, as well as connected imagery, meets a gentle interruption in line 9.
Here, the line begins with a phyrric, leaving the reader hovering for three syllables before
landing on a stress on the word “locust.” The connection between fish and the blossoms
of the locust tree is also a bit harder to establish, although both are most often seen in
multitudes. It is here, though, that Whitman introduces a cyclical image, as the flowers
drop “mornings and evenings.” The rhythm then continues more smoothly. The flowers
that drop down in line 9 surely decay into the “smut” of line 10; the hawks soaring in line
11, “look down [emphasis added]” even as they “soar above” – approaching the celestial
bodies described in line 12. Here is another cyclical image, as well: that of suns and

183
Walt Whitman, Whitman: Poetry and Prose, ed. Justin Kaplan (New York: Literary Classics of the
United States, 1982), 11.

184
Wilson Allen, Handbook, 293, quoted in Wannamaker, 7-8.

147
comets held in circular orbits by invisible and tremendously powerful natural forces. The
activity of pursuit connects the comets of line 12 to the “fang’d and four-footed”
predators of line 13, as well as line 14’s clouds “driving overhead.” In all of these
images there is a sense of activity and single-minded purpose. The explicit mention of
predators in lines 11 and 13, following the herbivores of line 7 and fishes of line 8, and
the plants and trees of lines 4 and 6, also invokes another fundamental cycle: the food
chain, the endless cycle of life and death. This cycle would not be complete, of course,
without reproduction – sex – and sex is certainly one layer of meaning in line 15. Lines
15 and 16 are unified by imagery of mingling and diffusion of substances (air and water);
this can be read as a reference to sexual coupling, but the absence of boundaries and
limits implied by these images is also important. The “escape” mentioned in line 2 is
perhaps an escape from imposed (self- or otherwise) boundaries; in rejecting these in
favor of a more “transparent” life, Whitman finds immense fulfillment.
The many layers of meaning contained in Whitman’s catalog reveal themselves
slowly; the apparent simplicity of the catalog technique belies the depth of meaning it
conveys. Moving on, the fundamental elements of water and air in lines 15 and 16
transition easily to the fundamental cycles of weather (“snow, rain, cold”) and day/night
described in line 17. Whitman makes the theme of natural cycles – and both the truth and
importance of our inter-connectedness – explicit: “we are each product and influence of
the globe.” Thus ends the catalog. Lines 18 and 19 draw the focus of the poem back
from its cosmic breadth to the two individuals with which it began. As in the
introduction, the language emphasizes the length of the journey (line 2: “long we have

148
been absent”; line 18: “we have circled and circled”), and the fact that the final, joyous
homecoming is enacted through an elimination of boundaries: “We have voided all but
freedom and all but our own joy” (line 19). While this poem expresses Whitman’s
philosophical ideals of unity with Nature, and his value for all things (in regard to this,
Wilson Allen writes: “In this sense, Whitman is pre-eminently a religious poet”),
185
it is
also a passionate expression of love between two people. The every-present “we”
functions as the cornerstone of the poem: the repetition of the word provides structural
unity, while the personal relationship it represents is revealed as the catalyst of
Whitman’s transformative experience. The “we” might be Whitman and a particular
individual, or Whitman and the reader: “Response becomes in his poems the single most
persistent theme: his passionately sympathetic response to the world around him, and his
wish for sympathetic and sufficient return from the readers of his words.”
186
This drive
to build connections with his readers was an expression of Whitman’s broader moral and
philosophical program, as well; in a poem such as this one, “geographic and social
particulars are not simply indicated or admired, but imaginatively appropriated by the
speaker and proffered to the equally eligible reader as emblems, ‘divine leaves,’ of the
mysterious union between the individual and the social whole.”
187

185
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 130.

186
Williams, 29.

187
Pascal, 45.

149
Musical Analysis: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d”

It is a daunting task to set a lengthy and repetitive poem such as this to music. If a
composer faithfully links the textual repetition of a poetic catalog with comparable
musical repetition, the result will be rather tedious; if, on the other hand, a composer
attempts to set each individual line in a distinctive way, the setting may lack any sense of
continuity or direction. John Wannamaker observes that,
From the discussion of catalog settings, it can be seen that where composers have
exercised ingenuity and imagination, musical versions have lent organization and
structure to the device where the poet was not always able to realize the full
extent of his intention. In an ideal sense, the music furnishes a helping hand in
the act of transcendence which Whitman so earnestly sought…Kinships of
melodies, rhythms, and harmonies in the musical texture supply the missing
common bonds…between enumerated items. With the music, the whole catalog
is bound together with more certainty than can be found in the lines by
themselves, and in a way that no rationalizations about the lines as poetic
technique can quite supply. Repetition in musical technique is analogous to the
catalog in poetic technique, and varied repetition…has been one of the staples of
catalog settings.
188

Although “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d” is one of Whitman’s more successful
applications of the “enumerative technique,” Wannamaker’s observations are still
germane to Sametz’s musical setting.
189
The composer makes the most of the vivid and
diverse imagery contained within the text while providing an underlying musical
structure to fuel the “cumulative dramatic force” Whitman sought to achieve through his
catalog technique.
190

188
Wannamaker, 329-330.

189
Ibid., 301.

190
Ibid., 299-300.

The wealth of musical variety in this setting, both in terms of rhythm and pace,
serves to convey the exuberance of the poetic voice and the broad array of imagery
presented. At a more fundamental level, the interplay of energy and stasis also provides
structure. If one considers the flow of these two qualities in the musical setting, a pattern
emerges. The movement opens in m.136 with an energetic drive to a high point in
m.140, followed by a gradual drawing
mm.143-146:

Figure 5M. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.136

Source: Steven Sametz, We two
The wealth of musical variety in this setting, both in terms of rhythm and pace,
serves to convey the exuberance of the poetic voice and the broad array of imagery
t a more fundamental level, the interplay of energy and stasis also provides
structure. If one considers the flow of these two qualities in the musical setting, a pattern
emerges. The movement opens in m.136 with an energetic drive to a high point in
40, followed by a gradual drawing-down of momentum in mm.141-142, and stasis in
Figure 5M. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.136-155

We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
150
The wealth of musical variety in this setting, both in terms of rhythm and pace,
serves to convey the exuberance of the poetic voice and the broad array of imagery
t a more fundamental level, the interplay of energy and stasis also provides
structure. If one considers the flow of these two qualities in the musical setting, a pattern
emerges. The movement opens in m.136 with an energetic drive to a high point in
142, and stasis in
155

151
The pattern is repeated in mm.147-157, mm.158-170, mm.171-189, mm.190-206, and
mm.221-232.

Table 5E. Formal Structure of Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d”

Sections Sub-subsections # of mm. # mm. Poetic lines

mm.136-146 11 11 1, 2, 3 (1
st
half)

mm.147-157 11 11 3 (2
nd
half), 4, 5, 6

mm.158-170 mm.158-161 4 13 7
mm.162-166 5 8
mm.167-170 4 9 (1
st
half)

mm.171-189 mm.171-184 14 19 9 (2
nd
half), 10, 11, 12
mm.185-189 5 13

mm.190-206 17 17 15, 16

mm.207-220 14 26 17, 18
mm.221-232 12 19

mm.233-254 mm.233-244 12 23 1/19 (paraphrase)
mm.245-254 11 19 (paraphrase)

Each iteration of this pattern – while unique – establishes an audible structural
framework. The pattern also accumulates energy through the piece, just as the poetic
catalog gains momentum with each new addition. With the exception of mm.190-206,
each successive section is the same or slightly longer than the last.
However, in music as in poetry, repetition creates the opportunity to deviate in
meaningful ways, to “[establish] regularity only to depart from it expressively.”
191

Sametz does precisely this in mm.207-220. The section begins with an explicit reminder

191
Fussell, 32.

of the opening of the piece
“Tempo I”:

Figure 5N. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.207
Source: Steven Sametz, We two

This section, however, breaks the established phrase pattern. The music builds
dramatically to a peak in m.220, but instead of subsiding gradually, it ends abruptly,
interrupted by the beginning of a new phrase:

Figure 5P. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.219
Source: Steven Sametz, We two
of the opening of the piece – a similar imitative polyphonic texture and a return to
Figure 5N. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.207-210
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
This section, however, breaks the established phrase pattern. The music builds
dramatically to a peak in m.220, but instead of subsiding gradually, it ends abruptly,
interrupted by the beginning of a new phrase:
“We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.219-222
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
152
a similar imitative polyphonic texture and a return to
210

This section, however, breaks the established phrase pattern. The music builds
dramatically to a peak in m.220, but instead of subsiding gradually, it ends abruptly,
222

153
This phrase returns to the pattern; it builds, peaks, declines, and eventually concludes
with sustained chords in mm.231-232. Significantly, this arrival also coincides with the
completion of the final line of poetic text. The purpose of the interrupted pattern in
mm.207-220 seems clear: delaying the completion of the phrase pattern strengthens the
sense of arrival at m.232. In this way, the musical form enhances the “cumulative
dramatic force” intended by the poetic form of the catalog.
192

The final section of Sametz’s fifth movement functions as a coda. In mm.233-
244, he combines the first two words of the poem, “We two,” with its final five words,
“all but our own joy.” This suits the cyclical themes in the poem, and provides a
satisfying sense of closure; Robert Maggio did the same thing at the end of his setting of
“I Hear America Singing.” The piece concludes with a repeated paraphrase of poetic line
19, “all but our freedom and joy,” in mm.245-254. Repeated rhythmic patterns and an
expanding tessitura build to an ecstatic, celebratory conclusion.
The distribution of text in this setting amplifies the additive nature of the poetic
structure. While the poetic analysis identifies sectional breaks between lines 3 and 4
(introduction and catalog) and lines 17 and 18 (catalog and conclusion), these are not
reflected in the musical form. In fact, as table 5E demonstrates, these divisions are
subverted by the musical form; both fall in the middle of a phrase pattern. While the
coda in mm.233-254 allows for greater emphasis on the poem’s concluding text, it is only
parts of line 19 that are featured. Overall – and in counterpoint to his clearly established
phrase pattern – Sametz preserves the propulsive unity and forward drive of the text. He

192
Wannamaker, 299-300.

154
does this by varying his adherence to poetic line structure. Phrase patterns coincide with
poetic line breaks at m.158 (line 6 to line 7), m.190 (line 13 to line 15
193
), and m.207
(line 16 to line 17). However, poetic lines 3 and 9 are each split between two phrase
patterns (see table 5E). Perhaps the most important impact this has on the listener is that
the musical sections beginning in m.147 and m.171 do not begin with the word “we.”
Likewise, that critical word is glossed over in mm.147-157 and mm.171-184 by the
seamless combination of multiple poetic lines. Particularly in m.176 and m.179, the
textual structure is undermined by the musical phrase (see fig. 5Q). Besides mitigating
the repetitive mantra of “we,” this also results in longer stretches of sustained musical
action with a higher energy level. Sametz’s treatment of the text provides necessary
momentum as well as variety in the setting.
While Sametz avoids repetition and predictability, he sustains musical coherence
through the repeated use of two basic thematic elements. First, five of the phrase patterns
begin with an imitative polyphonic texture that resolves into homophony. This occurs at
the beginning of the piece in m.136 (see fig. 5M), and at the start of phrase patterns in
m.171, m.190, m.207 and m.221. It also appears at m.162, in the middle of a pattern
iteration; this weakens the connection between the thematic element and the phrase
pattern, avoiding the pitfall of predictability. Each distinct iteration of this thematic
element is sufficiently similar to the others to serve as an aural milestone. The other
unifying thematic element is a syncopated rhythmic pattern combining 6/8 and ¾
metrical groupings. This first appears in mm.147-149 (see fig. 5M). It returns in

193
Line 14 of the poem was omitted from the setting.

Figure 5Q. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.160

Source: Steven Sametz, We two
Figure 5Q. Sametz: “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” mm.160-184
We two (Boston: ECS Publishing, 2010).
155
184

156
mm.167-170, mm.173-175, mm.177-180, mm.185-186, mm.190-191, mm.207-212,
mm.221-225, and mm.233-244. Clearly, it is pervasive. Because the time signature is
almost exclusively 3/8, 6/8 or 9/8, the syncopation in this theme provides a respite from
the prevailing triplet gait. It also allows for a truer realization of the metrical flow of the
poetry. For example, the syncopated rhythm in mm.170-171 highlights the accented
syllables on “drop scent”; the same is true for “coarse smut” in m.174 (see fig. 5Q). In
the context of the movement as a whole, however, this syncopated figure is more of a
structural element than a response to the poetic language.
As in every movement of this work, there are numerous examples of vivid text
painting. In “We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d,” perhaps the most striking is a
marked use of vocal pairings. The piece opens with a lively duet between the first tenors
and the first basses, including a lilting series of descending parallel thirds in mm.141-143
(see fig. 5M). In mm.147-153, m.158, mm.182-183 and mm.251-252, Sametz creates
double duets of a sort: the tenor and bass parts are imitative, each sung in parallel thirds
by the two halves of each section (see fig. 5M). As previously discussed in the poetic
analysis, the relationship between Whitman and his beloved is the catalyst for his poetic
epiphany; it is “we two” that lies at the very heart of the poem. Sametz references this in
a subtle but persistent way with his use of duet voicings throughout his setting of the
poem. In addition, there are numerous individual examples of sensitivity to textual
meaning. The striking shift to duple rhythms in m.154, coinciding with the text, “bedded
in the ground, we are rocks, we are oaks,” provides a potent expression of objects and
organisms deeply rooted in the earth (see fig. 5M). Changes in vocal range are also used

157
to expressive advantage, as in mm.162-166, where the downward cascade of entrances
suggests not only the smooth flow of the “two fishes,” but the depth of “the sea” (see fig.
5Q). Similarly, Sametz gives the second basses a meaningful downward leap to a low D
on the text, “we drop scent” in mm.170-171 (see fig. 5Q). In mm.177-178, the vocal line
rises on “we soar above”, and falls on “and look down”; a more extended rising line that
follows in mm.179-183 describes suns and comets (see fig. 5Q). In mm.190-200, the
extended polyphonic texture perfectly suits the imagery of “cheerful waves rolling over
each other and interwetting each other.”
Steven Sametz’s musical realization of Whitman’s “We Two, How Long We
Were Fool’d” reflects much of the poem’s structural and rhetorical characteristics. As in
the poem, the musical setting sustains a balance of repetition and variety, moving
naturally forward from one phrase to the next with a sense of logical progression and
growing excitement. The musical trajectory, like the poetic one, builds and broadens
organically through the long list of catalogued items, things, and ideas; ending with an
impassioned and ecstatic conclusion. Sametz also pays homage to the central theme of a
pair of lovers with persistent pairing of vocal parts, and highlights the wonderful variety
contained in the poetry with evocative text painting.

Conclusion
Steven Sametz’s We two provides countless examples of how the composer
responds to text. He demonstrates particularly sensitivity to the thematic content of the
poetry. Imagery such as the veiling leaves in movement 3 (“Here the Frailest Leaves of

158
Me”), the floating down-balls in movement 4 (“Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes”),
and the rocks “bedded in the ground” in movement 5 (“We Two, How Long We Were
Fool’d”) are all brought vividly to life in Sametz’s musical setting. This analysis also
illustrates how a composer may alter the presentation of a text’s structural form in order
to create a successful musical setting. In movements 1 (“Earth, My Likeness”) and 4, the
composer chose to subdivide the poetic text in a way that – while contrary to the form
suggested by the poetic analysis – proved to be highly effective from a dramatic
standpoint. Likewise, the poetic catalog in movement 5 required an underlying musical
structure to counteract the potential monotony of the repetitive text, while also bringing
out its organic sense of forward momentum. While none of the composers featured in
this study practices the kind of comprehensive poetic analysis used for the project, it
provides valuable insight into their creative processes.

159
Chapter 6

John Muehleisen

Poetic Analysis: “That Music Always Round Me”

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘
1 That music always round me, unceasing, unbeginning, yet long untaught I

˘ ˘ /
did not hear,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
2 But now the chorus I hear and am elated,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘
3 A tenor, strong, ascending with power and health, with glad notes of

/ ˘ ˘ /
daybreak I hear,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / /
4 A soprano at intervals sailing buoyantly over the tops of immense waves,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
5 A transparent base shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / /
6 The triumphant tutti, the funeral wailings with sweet flutes and violins, all

/ ˘ / ˘ / /
these I fill myself with,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
7 I hear not the volumes of sound merely, I am moved by the exquisite

/ ˘
meanings,

˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘
8 I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending

160

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
with fiery vehemence to excel each other in emotion;

˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘
9 I do not think the performers know themselves—but now I think I begin to

˘ /
know them.

“That Music Always Round Me” was originally included in the “Calamus” cluster
in the third (1860) edition of Leaves of Grass. As previously discussed, poems in the
“Calamus” cluster explore themes of love – romantic and/or platonic – between men.
Whitman moved it to the “Whispers of Heavenly Death” cluster, a group focused on the
themes of death and immortality, in the fifth (1872) edition. It is undeniably useful to
consider the poem from both thematic standpoints, but also important to consider that the
poet’s initial inspiration was perhaps more amorous (in the broadest sense of the term)
than might be assumed.
194
In any case, this poem touches upon a number of the most
prominent – and most far-reaching – themes in Whitman’s output.
“That Music Always Round Me” is structured like a rhetorical argument: an
introductory statement (lines 1-2) establishes the poet’s premise; subsequent details
support the premise (lines 3-6); and concluding thoughts distill the details into a more
broadly meaningful message (lines 7-9). Like “I Hear America Singing,” the central
theme of this poem is “music”: not literal but metaphorical song representing the
complex web of human relationships that binds us together, “social harmony in a new

194
Kramer, ed., 162.

161
form.”
195
This concept is intertwined with Whitman’s passionately held ideal of a
“spiritual democracy,” an ideal that could only be realized by his beloved American
nation, and would be nurtured by the unifying power of his poetry.
196
This ideal is more
than simple nationalism: “…the poet saw American democracy as an important link –
perhaps even a decisive link – in the upward progression of souls toward the reality of
God.”
197
Whitman viewed himself as a natural leader in this process; as the “national
bard,” he “…was to be priest and moral leader.”
198
This perspective is a prominent one
in “That Music Always Round Me,” and explains the poem’s initial inclusion in the
“Calamus” cluster – which explores love (at least on one level) as a metaphor for
democracy.
199
The connection to “Calamus” may also be due to the poem’s prominent
musical metaphors. Whitman had both an philosophical appreciation for music as a
universal human experience, and a deep personal appreciation for the spiritual and
sensual power of the art form: “Then music, the combiner, nothing more spiritual,
nothing more sensuous, a god, yet completely human, advances, prevails, holds highest
place; supplying in certain wants and quarters what nothing else could supply…”
200

As the first line of “That Music Always Round Me” makes clear, the metaphorical
music represents a reality only recognizable when an individual like the poet learns to

195
Ibid.

196
Williams, 52.

197
Wannamaker, 103.

198
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 92-93.

199
Oliver, 60.

200
Whitman, 934.

162
hear it: “yet long untaught I did not hear” (line 1). The poem establishes a distinction
between Whitman, who hears the music, and the rest of humanity, who do not.
Whitman’s role as visionary is explicit here. While the “performers” (line 9) in this poem
do not perceive their own roles in the fantastical music Whitman describes, he – as
visionary – sees it, and seeks to allow others share his vision. Lines 6-8 define the poet’s
insight with particular clarity. He takes in, “fill[s him]self with…” (line 6) the multitude
of individual parts; he differentiates between mere external “sound” and its more
important internal “meanings” (line 7); and he highlights the locus of all of this action,
the expression of “emotion” (line 8) – inner feelings. For Whitman, meaning is to be
found from within, through the individual’s perception and appreciation of the world:
As for the body of the world, of existence – Whitman isn’t trying to raise
reality through his poetry to another level of being, another realm of
possibility: his poetry embodies rather the gigantic illuminations that are
evident in perception…Whitman’s vegetation is itself, his poems don’t
need or want a mode of existence that depends on transformation: his
metaphoric stuff is inherent to his perceptions; rather than using mind to
alter reality, he finds ways to enlarge the underused senses of the mind, to
fling the eyes and ears open wider, to make more sensitive the endings of
the nerves.
201

Whitman celebrates the “real world” as he sees it through his extraordinary perspective.
The interconnectedness of human beings and Nature is a familiar thread in
Whitman’s work, and one which finds expression in both the thematic content and the
textual imagery of “That Music Always Round Me.” In line 1, his choice of the word
“round” rather than “around,” followed immediately by “unceasing” (without end) and
“unbeginning” (without beginning), instantly brings to mind the image of a circle, and all

201
Williams, 94.

163
of the symbolic depth that it implies. The music referenced is not literal music, but
something of cosmic importance – something essential and elemental. The descriptions
of each of the singers in lines 3-5 further support this, as each includes direction and
momentum, as well as a reference to a fundamental element in nature. The tenor in line 3
moves upward, “ascending” with “notes of daybreak” – reminding us of the perpetual
cycle of day and night, and the importance of the sun as bringer of life and source of
daily renewal. The soprano in line 4 pushes the trajectory forward from on high, “sailing
buoyantly” over “immense waves.” Symbolically, Whitman connects her to the ocean
and to water – another life-giving element. Line 5 draws the image of the circle down
with the “base shuddering lusciously under and through the universe,” invoking this time
the vast expanse of space. The singers are in constant motion, interacting with each
other, striving to express “meanings” (line 7) and “emotion” (line 8) in an endless,
cyclical process. If the songs being sung, like those in “I Hear America Singing,”
represent lives being lived, then the relationships between individuals and the Cosmos –
the “exquisite meanings” (line 7) – carry more significance than the outward facts of
living – the “volumes of sound” (line 7).
Another theme central to both this poem and to Whitman’s democratic agenda is
the importance of the individual.
202
The “chorus” that Whitman refers to in line 2 is
consistently described as a collection of individuals, rather than as a unified whole. The
tenor, soprano and “base” (a now obsolete spelling of “bass”) described in lines 3-5 are
single individuals, rather than sections in a chorus. The “funeral wailings” in line 6, and

202
Ibid., 65-66.

164
the “volumes” and “meanings” in line 7 all suggest diversity rather than unity by the
simple fact that they are plural nouns; Whitman could have written “wailing,” “volume,”
and “meaning,” which would have worked grammatically but would have conveyed a
completely different point. The “different voices winding…striving, contending” in line
8 only serve to further underscore this image of a wild, unregulated cacophony.
Ultimately, it is the relationships between the individual parts, rather than a unified
whole, that are important in Whitman’s worldview.
The poet supports and illustrates his expansive vision through his use of language
as a sonic medium. Line 1 is split by a caesura after the word “unbeginning,” separating
the description of the cosmic music, and the fact that Whitman did not hear it. The
dominance of a falling metrical feel in the first half, each metrical foot ending with an
unstressed syllable, supports the sense of the words themselves by suggesting a lack of
finality – suspension leading forward:
˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
1 That music | always | round me, | unceasing, | unbe | ginning,

The second half of the line, in contrast, has a strong rising feel. The feet here are all
trochaic with the exception of the phyrric on “I did,” (which incidentally serves to give
greater weight to the final syllable, “hear”):
˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
1 …yet long | untaught | I did | not hear,

As mentioned in chapter 1, the terms rising meter and falling meter do not inherently
convey any particular symbolic meaning; they simply describe the prevailing metrical

165
quality of a line of text. In line 2, a clear metrical pattern is more difficult to discern, but
it does return to a falling meter with the last word, “elated.”
˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
2 But now the chorus I hear and am elated,

In this way, Whitman uses contrasting metrical patterns to compare two things:
perception, and the lack of it. Simply through the sound and cadence of the words
themselves, the poet conveys meaning. A reader need not be aware of the technical
details to respond to their effect. Whitman’s gift for expressive language is also evident
in his descriptions of the three different singers. The “strong” tenor singing his “glad
notes” in line 3 is far more muscular than the soprano who follows, flying along on a
stream of unaccented syllables:
˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘
4 A so | prano at | intervals | sailing | buoyantly | over the tops of im-…

Likewise, line 8 – which is by far the longest in the poem – conveys through its
wonderful variations of metrical groupings (including both rising and falling meter) both
the variety and multitude of voices represented in Whitman’s vision. It should be noted
that because of the aforementioned variety, the assigning of metrical divisions or feet is a
highly objective procedure in this case. This writer’s approximation is given here not as
a definitive assessment but simply to illustrate the point.
˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘
8 I listen | to the dif | ferent voi | ces wind | ing in | and out, | striving, con |

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
tending with | fiery | vehemence | to excel | each o | ther in | emotion;

166
The return to a more regular series of iambic and anapestic feet (rising meter) in line 9
signals also how the poet’s insight makes sense of the chaos preceding it:
˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / || ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
9 I do | not think | the perform | ers know | themselves— | but now | I think I

˘ / ˘ ˘ /
begin | to know them.

This final line is split neatly with a caesura, and although eleven syllables precede it
while ten follow, there are exactly four accented syllables in each half of the line. This
conveys the balance of an antecedent-consequent phrase pair, again highlighting the
comparison between the poet’s and the performers’ perceptions.

Musical Analysis: That Music Always Round Me
Despite its obvious musical (and vocal) themes, “That Music Always Round Me”
has not attracted many choral or vocal settings. Samuel Adler set it for solo voice as part
of his Sixth String Quartet, published in 1977, and Lawrence Kramer included it in his
1984 song cycle, Three Poems of Walt Whitman. The poem touches upon an almost
overwhelming array of broad, interconnected themes: perception and self-knowledge, the
moral and spiritual power of democracy, the central importance of the individual, and the
individual’s connection to the cosmos. Such a wealth of meaning could act as a
deterrent, making it difficult to isolate one core thematic kernel upon which to establish a
musical interpretation. John Muehleisen, whose “That Music Always Round Me” is the
only known setting of the poem for chorus, initially struggled with the text, but

167
eventually arrived at an interpretation that allowed him to set it to music.
203
The work
was commissioned in 2004 by the Bellevue Chamber Chorus of Bellevue, Washington, to
mark the ensemble’s 20
th
anniversary season. Chorus director Dr. Fredrick Lokken
suggested the text, but as Muehleisen writes in his program notes, he was initially
“musically uninspired” by it.
204
He considered the numerous musical references more of
a detriment than a benefit, as they “could run the risk of becoming cliché or trite unless
very carefully set to music.”
205
Eventually, however, Muelheisen experienced a
revelation that dramatically altered his reading of the text, and his willingness to set it:
This time I considered it from a different perspective. Rather than
interpreting the text and its musical images so literally, I thought of the
poem in the context of two themes that Whitman uses in so many of his
works: a kind of cosmic mysticism and the holistic, spiritual connection of
the individual to all of humanity and indeed to the whole of the cosmos.
This different reading opened the floodgates and immediately the first
section of the work took shape.
206

It is strangely apropos that a personal revelation – such a central trope in “That Music
Always Round Me” – was also a critical part of the composer’s interaction with the text.
The musical structure of Muehleisen’s That Music Always Round Me mirrors the
rhetorical form of the poem to an extent not seen thus far in this study. The composer not
only sets each individual line of the poem in a distinct way, but he groups poetic lines 1-
2, 3-6 and 7-9 in larger sections within the piece, just as they are grouped in the poem.

203
John Muehleisen, “That Music Always Round Me,” program notes (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com,
2004).

204
Ibid.

205
Ibid.

206
Ibid.

168
Table 6A. Formal Structure of Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me

Poetic
Section Subsection Tempo lines Themes Affect

1 mm.1-24 q=54 1, 2 undulating calm energetic

2 mm.25-70 mm.25-35 q=96 3 undul. / rising offset energetic
mm.36-46 4 undul. / rising offset energetic
mm.47-58 5
mm.59-69 6 rising offset energetic

3 mm.71-91 mm.71-75 q=48 7 calm
mm.76-84 q=54 8 undul. / rising offset energetic
mm.85-91 q=42 9 calm

4 mm.92-97 1 energetic

These larger sections are defined primarily by shifts in tempo; the sub-sections, each
aligned precisely with a single line of poetic text, are defined by melodic themes, as well
as texture. With the exception of the phrase, “That music,” repeated extensively in
mm.1-12, and the repeat of poetic line 1 in the closing coda (mm.92-97), Muelheisen
presents the text with virtually no editing whatsoever.
The composer utilizes several thematic elements to unify the setting. As he
explains in his program notes, a melodic theme of undulating eighth notes, initially sung
on neutral syllables at the start of the work, represents the metaphorical music the poet
invokes at the outset of the poem:
207

207
Ibid.

Figure 6A. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me

Source: John Muehleisen, That Music Always Round Me

The seamless transfer of the theme between the upper and lower vocal sections is
“unceasing,” and the gradual appearance of text over the following twelve measures
conveys the slow awakening of the poet’s awareness, as he learns to “hear” the “music.”
The poet’s jubilant realization coincides with a
two lines of the poetic text in mm.13
(previously accompaniment, separate from text) into the primary melodic material. At
the start of section 2, the
helping to isolate the men’s sections as they sing of “the tenor, strong,” and later the
women’s sections describing “the soprano”:

That Music Always Round Me, mm.1-4
That Music Always Round Me (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
The seamless transfer of the theme between the upper and lower vocal sections is
“unceasing,” and the gradual appearance of text over the following twelve measures
conveys the slow awakening of the poet’s awareness, as he learns to “hear” the “music.”
poet’s jubilant realization coincides with a tutti, homophonic declamation of the first
two lines of the poetic text in mm.13-24, now incorporating the undulating
(previously accompaniment, separate from text) into the primary melodic material. At
the start of section 2, the undulating theme again appears as textless accompaniment,
helping to isolate the men’s sections as they sing of “the tenor, strong,” and later the
women’s sections describing “the soprano”:
169

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
The seamless transfer of the theme between the upper and lower vocal sections is
“unceasing,” and the gradual appearance of text over the following twelve measures
conveys the slow awakening of the poet’s awareness, as he learns to “hear” the “music.”
, homophonic declamation of the first
undulating theme
(previously accompaniment, separate from text) into the primary melodic material. At
theme again appears as textless accompaniment,
helping to isolate the men’s sections as they sing of “the tenor, strong,” and later the

Figure 6B. Muehleisen: That Music
Source: John Muehleisen, That Music Always Round Me

Figure 6C. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me
Source: John Muehleisen, That Music Always Round Me

That Music Always Round Me, mm.25-28
That Music Always Round Me (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
That Music Always Round Me, mm.36-40
That Music Always Round Me (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
170

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).

nmuehleisen.com, 2004).

The theme appears once more in the middle sub
text, “I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending with fiery
vehemence.” Here, its sinuous quality illustrates textu

Figure 6D. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me

Source: John Muehleisen, That Music Always Round Me

A second thematic element that provides structural cohesion is first heard in
section 2:

Figure 6E. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me

Source: John Muehleisen, That Music Always Round Me
The theme appears once more in the middle sub-group of section 3, accompanying the
text, “I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending with fiery
vehemence.” Here, its sinuous quality illustrates textual meaning:
That Music Always Round Me, mm.76-81
That Music Always Round Me (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
A second thematic element that provides structural cohesion is first heard in
That Music Always Round Me, mm.28-31

That Music Always Round Me (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
171
group of section 3, accompanying the
text, “I listen to the different voices winding in and out, striving, contending with fiery

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
A second thematic element that provides structural cohesion is first heard in
(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).

172
Characterized by ascending lines in all vocal parts and an offset rhythm in one, this theme
rapidly increases dramatic momentum in order to bring a musical section to an exciting
close. It is found at or near the end of almost every section of the piece the composer
identifies as “more ecstatic”: mm.29-31, mm.40-45, mm.66-69 and mm.82-84.
208

Although the first appearance of the theme in mm.29-31 does not actually coincide with
the end of the musical section, the pairing with the textual word “ascending” suggests an
obvious expressive reason for deviating from the pattern. In addition to its practical
function, however, the rising offset rhythm theme also presents a musical realization of
the concept of unity within diversity that was so important to Whitman: all parts sing the
same text with a similar melodic trajectory; one is simply marching to the beat of its own
drummer, so to speak. And, all parts come together at the end of the musical phrase. In
particular, the pairing of the theme in mm.66-69 with the text, “…all these [voices and
sounds] I fill myself with,” highlights the poet’s ability to accept – without judgment or
discrimination – every unique member of the multitude into a unified whole: himself.
One final unifying element in Muehleisen’s That Music Always Round Me is a
harmonic shift from minor to major, first heard at the start of the piece as the composer
portrays the poet’s “gradual epiphany”
209
with a change from D minor to D-flat major.
Section 2 remains in D-flat major, but the quiet opening to section 3 (m.71) introduces a
short foray into F minor before returning to the home key. The final subsection of
section 3 repeats this F minor – D-flat major shift, although the two sections are

208
Ibid.

209
Ibid.

173
otherwise thematically distinct. In both of these sub-sections, the music is more
introspective – and rhythmically and melodically less active – than the rest of the piece.
Practically speaking, they provide welcome contrast within the musical framework,
allowing for quiet contemplation to balance the more ecstatic portions of the setting. As
an expressive device, however, they recall the poet’s slow awakening at the start of the
poem. In this way, the experience of epiphany is not a unique occurrence, but one that
the poet relives each time he pauses to reflect and remember. Muehleisen notes that the
coda, following directly upon the last subsection of section 3, is “one final realization on
the part of the poet”
210
– indicated by the return of the first line of poetic text. The idea
that this ecstatic realization described by Whitman first requires introspection is not
strongly articulated in the poem itself, but is a central component in Muehleisen’s
interpretation.
Although historically most Whitman settings include a great deal of text-painting,
Muehleisen appears to have been more inspired by the thematic content of “That Music
Always Round Me” than its small-scale imagery.
211
There are still many examples of
effective text-setting, of course: the role of the “tenor” in mm.27-31 is sung by the men of
the chorus (who appropriately “ascend” in mm.29-31), while the women take on the role
of the “soprano” in mm.36-45 (also appropriately “sailing buoyantly over” the lower
voices), as well as the “sweet flutes and violins” in mm.64-65; the “transparent base” is

210
Ibid.

211
Wannamaker, 381.

accompanied by a rich, sustained ostinato pattern in mm.47
in mm.59-61 is exactly that.
The particular metrical quality of the text is preserved in Muehleisen’s setting.
He utilizes a highly variable mix of meter, and his choices demonstrate both sensitivity to
word stress, and creativity in finding
language. For example, poetic line 4
triplet syllable groupings
metrically quite similar, b
providing a strong rhythmic framework against which the triplet rhythms in the soprano
line are set in strong relief:

Figure 6F. Muehleisen: That Music Always Round Me
Source: John Muehleisen, That Music Always Round Me

accompanied by a rich, sustained ostinato pattern in mm.47-58; and the “triump
61 is exactly that.
The particular metrical quality of the text is preserved in Muehleisen’s setting.
He utilizes a highly variable mix of meter, and his choices demonstrate both sensitivity to
word stress, and creativity in finding effective ways to convey the natural flow of the
language. For example, poetic line 4 – which, as previously discussed, is dominated by
triplet syllable groupings – is set in a consistent ¾ meter in mm.37-44. Poetic line 5 is
metrically quite similar, but Muehleisen chooses a steady duple meter for the ostinato,
providing a strong rhythmic framework against which the triplet rhythms in the soprano
line are set in strong relief:
That Music Always Round Me, mm.51-54

That Music Always Round Me (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).
174
58; and the “triumphant tutti”
The particular metrical quality of the text is preserved in Muehleisen’s setting.
He utilizes a highly variable mix of meter, and his choices demonstrate both sensitivity to
effective ways to convey the natural flow of the
which, as previously discussed, is dominated by
44. Poetic line 5 is
ut Muehleisen chooses a steady duple meter for the ostinato,
providing a strong rhythmic framework against which the triplet rhythms in the soprano

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2004).

175
In many cases, the composer’s mix of meter serves to place important syllables on
downbeats, as in mm.76-80 (see Example 6D). As Muehleisen explains in his program
notes, the key to his understanding of Whitman’s poem is the broad thematic content it
conveys.
212
This fact is beautifully illustrated in the composer’s setting of the text.
While he pays homage to images that he found particularly compelling (such as the
“transparent base”), the setting as a whole is built upon musical themes intimately tied to
the content of the poem: its spiritual message of self-realization. The composer pays
careful attention to the natural cadence of the poetic language; the resulting rhythmic and
metrical variability conveys the freedom that Whitman sought to both imagine and bring
about through his work:
The promise, the promise in much of the work, is that the vividness and
grandeur of the poetic self who is making this poem will be so
gravitationally magnetic that he will make poets of us all; we will not only
be accounted for, we will learn to account for ourselves, and for
everything else. We will be again first persons adequate to our greatest
selves.
213

Poetic Analysis: “Salut au Monde!” (abridged text)

/ / ˘ /
1 O take my hand!

/ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ /
2 Such gliding wonders! Such sights and sounds!

/ / ˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ /
3 Such join’d unended links, each hook’d to the next,

212
Muehleisen, program notes.

213
Williams, 56.

176

/ / ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
4 Each answering all, each sharing the earth with all.

˘ / ˘ / / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
5 I see a great round wonder rolling through space,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘
6 I see the shaded part on one side where the sleepers are sleeping, and the

/ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
sunlit part on the other side,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ /
7 I see the curious rapid change of the light and shade,

˘ ˘ / ˘ /
8 I see distant lands…

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ / / ˘ ˘
9 I see the filaments of the news of the wars, death, losses, gains, passions of

˘ /
my race…

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / / / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘
10 I see the battlefields of the earth, grass grows upon them and blossoms and

/
corn,

˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘
11 I see farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyards, jails, factories, palaces, hovels,

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
huts [of barbarians], tents of nomads upon the surface,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘
12 I see all the menials of the earth, laboring,

177
˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
13 I see all the prisoners in the prisons,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
14 I see the defective human bodies of the earth,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
15 The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
16 The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘
17 The helpless infants, and the helpless old men and women.

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
18 I see male and female everywhere,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘
19 I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
20 I see the constructiveness of my race,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
21 I see the results of the perseverance of my race,

˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
22 And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth.

/ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
23 You whoever you are!

/ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
24 Health to you! Good will to you all!, from me and America sent!

/ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘
25 Each of us inevitable,

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ /
26 Each of us limitless – each of us with his or her right upon the earth,

178
/ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
27 Each of us allow’d the eternal purports of the earth,

/ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
28 Each of us here as divinely as any is here…on equal terms with me.

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / /
29 My spirit has pass’d in compassion around the whole earth,

/ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘
30 You vapors, I think I have risen with you, moved away to distant

/ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / /
continents, and fallen down there,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
31 I think I have blown with you you winds;

˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
32 You waters I have finger’d every shore with you,

˘ ˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / /
33 I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run through,

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ /
34 I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas and on the high

˘ / ˘ / / ˘ /
embedded rocks, thence to cry:

˘ / ˘ /
35 Salut au monde!

˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ ˘ /
36 Toward you all, in America’s name,

˘ / / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘
37 I raise high the perpendicular hand, I make the signal,

179
˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘
38 To remain after me in sight forever,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ /
39 For all the haunts and homes of men.

“Salut au Monde!” has only ever been set in edited form, and it is not difficult to
understand why: the original poem contains 13 sections and 226 lines. John Muehleisen
preserved much of Whitman’s original language in his rendering of the poem, however,
so it still seems appropriate to analyze the language in a way similar to that employed for
complete poem settings elsewhere in this study. As for the structure of the edited poem,
we will consider the impact of the editing process on both meaning and form as we
discuss the poem here.
“Salut au Monde!” is an ecstatic celebration of everything. In true Whitman
form, it offers a broad vision and inclusive, all-encompassing language. The opening
four lines of the poem are the same in both the complete and edited versions, and in both
cases, they set the stage for the vast panorama of images and ideas to follow:
1 O take my hand!
2 Such gliding wonders! Such sights and sounds!
3 Such join’d unended links, each hook’d to the next,
4 Each answering all, each sharing the earth with all.

The opening phrase, “O take my hand,” is particularly apropos, as suggestive as it is of an
impending journey, with a steady guide to lead the way. Lines 2-4 state the primary
theme of the entire work: the interconnectedness of all of humanity and nature. The
imagery of “links” and “hook[s]” (line 3), “answering” and “sharing” (line 4), is
particularly evocative, and the import of the words is heightened considerably by the rich

180
concentration of consonant sounds: “Such joined” (line 3), “each hook’d” (line 3), “next”
(line 3), “each sharing” (line 4), “earth with all” (line 4). Even without speaking the
words aloud, the reader instinctively slows the metric tempo, giving the words greater
emphasis and weight. In addition, lines 2-4 are each split by a caesura, and this structural
feature is further emphasized by repetition; the first three phrases begin with the word,
“such”; the last three with “each.” The two words sound very similar, but the fact that
they overlap in line 3 illustrates visually the concept of interlocking hooks or links
described in the text.
In editing the poem for his composition, John Muehleisen chose to retain the less
specific, more universally applicable sections of text. From the original poem, which
contains over 300 proper nouns – names of specific places, things and peoples – the
edited text retains only one: “America,” in line 24. While this approach inevitably alters
the tone and feel of the text considerably, it nevertheless retains the overall import of the
work while cutting the majority of the lines from it. (See Appendix H for a comparison
of the original and Muehleisen’s edited versions of the poem.) Following the four
opening lines, Muehleisen omits a long series of questions (section 1) and answers
(section 2), as well as a list of things Whitman hears (section 3), jumping ahead to section
4: the start of a vast catalog of places, people and things the poet sees. He retains almost
the entire first portion of this section, although he rearranges the line order and inserts
two additional lines borrowed from sections 5 and 7:
5 I see a great round wonder rolling through space,
6 I see the shaded part on one side where the sleepers are sleeping, and the
sunlit part on the other side,
7 I see the curious rapid change of the light and shade,

181
8 I see distant lands…
9 I see the filaments of the news of the wars, death, losses, gains, passions of
my race…
10 I see the battlefields of the earth, grass grows upon them and blossoms and
corn,
11 I see farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyards, jails, factories, palaces, hovels,
huts [of barbarians], tents of nomads upon the surface,

The result is a seven-line grouping that presents a view of the earth from space, and a
consideration of the human activities taking place upon it from a detached perspective:
the rotation of the earth resulting in day and night is only “curious” (line 7), while
dramatic life-events – “wars, death, losses, gains, passions” (line 9) – are registered only
as “filaments”
214
(line 9). Ancient battlefields now lush with flowers and food embody
Whitman’s “characteristic use of elegiac…imagery to depict transformative
processes.”
215
Similarly, the jumbled list of human habitations in line 11 is very much in
keeping with Whitman’s egalitarian belief in the equal value of all things in the universe;
there is no apparent order, and thus no relative value placed on any element in the list.
While presented in terrestrial terms, this has broader implications: “Whitman’s mélange
is…not simply a homogenized equality of every finite being, but also a commingling of
the finite and the infinite. No one can hold a more democratic philosophy than that.”
216

The next section of text in Muelheisen’s version is taken almost verbatim from
the final two paragraphs of section 10 in the original poem:

214
In the original poem, this line referred to the one preceding it, “I see the electric telegraphs of the earth”;
ultimately, though, the main point remains the same.

215
Kramer, xx.

216
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 124.

182
12 I see all the menials of the earth, laboring,
13 I see all the prisoners in the prisons,
14 I see the defective human bodies of the earth,
15 The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,
16 The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth,
17 The helpless infants, and the helpless old men and women.

18 I see male and female everywhere,
19 I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs,
20 I see the constructiveness of my race,
21 I see the results of the perseverance of my race,
22 And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth.

23 You whoever you are!
24 Health to you! Good will to you all!, from me and America sent!

These two sub-sections offer contrasting views of the variety of human beings. The first
dwells upon negative images: mindless workers; prisoners; criminals; those with physical
and mental defects; the “helpless” (line 17), either young or old. The steady increase in
syllabic length from lines 13 to 16, as well as the increase in concentration and
complexity achieved with the lists of human types in lines 15 and 16, imparts the
impression of a massive horde of deviant individuals growing rapidly out of control. The
very structure of the poetic lines imparts a sense of impending danger. The second sub-
section, by contrast, focuses on positives: “serene brotherhood” (line 19)
“constructiveness” (line 20), “perseverance” (line 21). The lines are shorter, and regular;
they are under control, and present no potential threat. Whitman goes on to salute all,
bad and good in equal measure, and wish “good will” to all on behalf of himself and the
entire nation of America in lines 22-24. Such undiscerning inclusiveness is closely tied
to the promise of equality that he hoped American democracy might someday bring to
fruition: “Whitman frequently employs the motif of the common man as a trope of

183
democracy, and his joining of genders, classes, and nationalities in his catalogues is a
great equalizer.”
217
The diverse catalog of people in “Salut au Monde!” also illustrates
Whitman’s flexible sense of poetic identity in his work: “Not only does he see all people
in himself, but he imaginatively and compassionately becomes each of these in turn as
they come into the focus of his sympathy.”
218

The next four lines of text can be found at the end of section 11 in the original.
The culmination of a long address to the various peoples of the world, they express the
universality of basic rights:
25 Each of us inevitable,
26 Each of us limitless – each of us with his or her right upon the earth,
27 Each of us allow’d the eternal purports of the earth,
28 Each of us here as divinely as any is here…on equal terms with me.

As he does elsewhere, Whitman employs repetition as a structural element. In this case,
the technique also adds depth of meaning. Each line begins with the word, “each.”
219

The repetition of this word demonstrates in both a visual and aural way the concept of
diversity within unity: the same word appears repeatedly, but it expresses a singularity
(i.e. one person); each individual has certain basic rights and significance, but all people
are accorded those same rights and significance. Muelheisen adds the text “…on equal
terms with me” from earlier in the original poem, which makes this theme more explicit.

217
Louis Martz, The Poem of the Mind: Essays on Poetry, English and American, (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1966), 88-89, quoted in Kenaston, 18.

218
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 132.

219
The repetition of the first word of a poetic line is technically known as anaphora.

184
Muelheisen draws heavily from the final section of “Salut au Monde!” for his
text. Just as the original poem returns to a contemplation of natural phenomena, after the
exhaustive documentation of human beings and the places they inhabit, so too does the
composer’s edited version of the text:
29 My spirit has pass’d in compassion around the whole earth,
30 You vapors, I think I have risen with you, moved away to distant
continents, and fallen down there,
31 I think I have blown with you you winds;
32 You waters I have finger’d every shore with you,
33 I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run through,
34 I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas and on the high
embedded rocks, thence to cry:
35 Salut au monde!
36 Toward you all, in America’s name,
37 I raise high the perpendicular hand, I make the signal,
38 To remain after me in sight forever,
39 For all the haunts and homes of men.

In a trope we also saw in “The Voice of the Rain,” the poet personifies mists, rain, wind,
and water, traveling as one with them on their cyclical, natural paths. Whitman shares a
mystical rapport with all of mankind, and all of nature. His ebullient salutation, “Salut au
monde!” addresses the boundless universe. The final couplet, identical in the original
and edited texts, offers a universal greeting – the raised “perpendicular hand” (line 37) –
as an eternal symbol of welcome and understanding to future generations.
By piecing together sections of text, sometimes changing order but never re-
writing or adding new text, Muehleisen has fashioned an abridged version of Whitman’s
“Salut au Monde!” that does justice to the intent of the original. Out of necessity, the
composer has omitted the vast bulk of the detailed poetic catalog; what remains,
however, still conveys the expansive and joyous message of the original: “…Salut au

185
Monde...is a poem of worship of both the outer (physical) and inner (mental, spiritual)
worlds. The burden of its message to the acolytes is: explore your own inner space, until
you know it matches the wonders of the natural world. In a ‘divine rapport’ the poet’s
spirit circles the earth and finds ‘equals and lovers…in all lands.’”
220
Likewise, in the
editing process Muehleisen has preserved the repetitive, almost hypnotic quality of the
catalog, particularly in his choice to focus on the visual imagery of the original poem’s
section 4; the steady return of “I see…” in the abridged text continues just long enough to
invoke the original without being cumbersome. Finally, the composer’s method of
preserving text in sections, rather than piecemeal, retains more of Whitman’s formal
intent.

Musical Analysis: Salut au Monde!
John Muehleisen’s setting of “Salut au Monde!” was commissioned by
Conspirare and Artistic Director Craig Hella Johnson in 2006. It was premiered in
January, 2007 at the “Crossing the Divide – An American Masterpieces Choral Festival,”
sponsored by the National Endowment for the Arts. The festival premiere was performed
by the massed choirs, consisting of ensembles from the University of Texas (Austin),
Texas State University at San Marcos, Judson High School (Converse), Faith Family
Academy (Dallas), Stephen’s School (Austin), and the Conspirare Children’s Choir.
Whitman’s broadly expansive text seems particularly well suited to such a large and
diverse ensemble, and Muehleisen made full use of the performing forces available by

220
Wilson Allen, Reader’s Guide, 68.

186
setting the text for three SSAATTBB choirs – one of which was split and used
antiphonally – as well as a children’s choir. The members of the audience were
surrounded on all sides by Whitman’s visionary democratic message, carried through
Muehleisen’s dense, rich harmonic language.
This setting is through-composed, but Muehleisen provides a structural skeleton
by dividing the piece into five sections, each defined by textural elements (see table 6B).
Changes in key and tempo also mark transitions between sections, but thematic elements
most decisively define each section. As the composer created the text himself, his
musical form fits it comfortably; a comparison of musical and textual form, however,
does offer some insights on Muehleisen’s reading of the text. The first section includes
the four-line introduction followed by text describing the Earth and the evidence of
human habitation (lines1-11); the second section focuses on the negative aspects of
humanity (lines12-17); the third instead considers the positive, and concludes with a
broad, friendly salutation to all (lines 18-28); the fourth section moves on to the Earth
itself (lines 29-35); and the fifth and final section contains the four-line conclusion taken
verbatim from the original poem, saluting every element in the vast universe (lines 35-
39), “in America’s name” (line 36).

187
187

Muehleisen’s use of thematic material in his setting makes these sectional
divisions clear to the listener, thereby illuminating the rhetorical form he crafted from
Whitman’s original “Salut au Monde!” The most striking of these thematic elements is
the stacked chords – dominated by open fifths
of the piece:

Figure 6G. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!

Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde!
Muehleisen’s use of thematic material in his setting makes these sectional
divisions clear to the listener, thereby illuminating the rhetorical form he crafted from
Whitman’s original “Salut au Monde!” The most striking of these thematic elements is
dominated by open fifths – that the composer builds at the very start
Salut au Monde!, mm.1-5
Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
188
Muehleisen’s use of thematic material in his setting makes these sectional
divisions clear to the listener, thereby illuminating the rhetorical form he crafted from
Whitman’s original “Salut au Monde!” The most striking of these thematic elements is
that the composer builds at the very start

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).

189
This dramatic musical gesture returns repeatedly in Muehleisen’s Salut au Monde! A
defining feature of the first, third, and fifth sections of the piece, it serves as a thematic
cornerstone anchoring the far-reaching text. As in Robert Maggio’s I Hear America
Singing, where a similar musical gesture at the start of the setting invoked the vast
multitude of American workers, the use of stacked entrances here conveys the
expansiveness of Whitman’s democratic vision. The predominance of open fifths leaves
harmonic possibilities unclear, further adding to the sense of enormity and abstraction.
In both the first and final sections of his piece, Muehleisen consistently pairs this
stacked fifths theme with an answering pair of tutti, homophonic phrases, as in mm.9-12
(see fig. 6H). The pairing of these two thematic elements, like an antecedent-consequent
phrase pair, conveys a sense of balance and regularity. The repetition of these paired
phrases does not appear to be connected to the formal structure of the text; Muehleisen
unites halves of different poetic lines in mm.9-12 and mm.178-181. Instead, these phrase
pairs highlight the musical form of the piece and the rhetorical structure of the text. Such
pairings occur prominently at the beginning and end of the piece, and also in section 3,
coinciding with poetic lines 22-28, in which the poet expounds upon the universal rights
of all human beings. Muehleisen uses these joined themes to emphasize the points when
Whitman generalizes, drawing conclusions from the preceding catalogs of people, places
and things. Given that the composer excised most of the catalog from the original poem,
the impact of these cumulative passages is different in the abridged text; Muehleisen
compensates for this by making them clear focal points of his musical setting.

Figure 6H. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!

Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde!

Both the stacked fifths theme and the
independently in other parts o
accented lists in mm.64-68 (“I see farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyeards, jails, factories,
palaces”) and mm.83-85 (“The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics”),
Salut au Monde!, mm.9-12

Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
Both the stacked fifths theme and the tutti homophonic theme appear
independently in other parts of the setting; stacked entrances highlight metrically
68 (“I see farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyeards, jails, factories,
85 (“The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics”),
190
(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
appear
f the setting; stacked entrances highlight metrically
68 (“I see farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyeards, jails, factories,
85 (“The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics”),

191
and the tutti homophonic theme triumphantly heralds the end of section 4, paired with the
text, “Salut au monde! Salut au monde!” The final appearance of the stacked fifths
theme, in mm.184-193, stands alone; Muehleisen thus chooses to end the piece without a
resolution, albeit on an enormously thick, dramatic final chord. Muehleisen explained in
his interview that he finds such phrases inherently interesting and appealing: “What
normally happens at the end of a phrase, at a cadence, is chords tend to be simplified.
Right? Classically, to a triad, maybe even an open fifth. What I tend to do is to actually
build the texture. The harmonic structure tends to increase towards the end of a phrase.
It’s just something that really appeals to my ear.”
221
While the concluding sonority of
Salut au Monde! may simply be an expression of personal taste, it does also seem to
suggest the infinite possibilities, both inward and outward, still left to be explored.
Ostinato is another central thematic element in Muehleisen’s “Salut au Monde!”
Ostinato figures define sections 2 and 4, and in both, the choice is clearly linked to text.
In section 2, the relentless repeated figure sung by the tenors and basses underscores the
bleak monotony of the lives of “menials,” “prisoners,” and people with “defective human
bodies” (see fig. 6J). “Salut au Monde!” sings the glories of democracy and freedom; the
individuals described in poetic lines 12-15 suffer from a lack of freedom – constrained by
back-breaking labor, prison walls, or bodies and minds that have not attained their full
potential. This ostinato illustrates a tightly constrained, repetitive life: the antithesis of
the diversity and freedom Whitman envisions.

221
Muehleisen, interview, 237.

Figure 6J. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!

Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde!

Muehleisen uses a very different ostinato
poetic line 16, which lists various criminal elements in human society:

Salut au Monde!, mm.75-78
Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
Muehleisen uses a very different ostinato – this one jagged and disjunct –
poetic line 16, which lists various criminal elements in human society:
192

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
– to accompany

Figure 6K. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde
Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde!

This musical choice places these poetic characters in a different light. Muehleisen
differentiates them from the more innocent individuals
an excellent example of how a musical setting adds an interpretive gloss to its text.
Whitman’s catalog – as he later makes explicit in line 22
sort of value judgment. The poet sees all, des
aim is to be inclusive. Muehleisen clearly does make a value judgment through his
compositional choices. However, this may be driven as much by musical as by
philosophical concerns. A musical setting of th
Salut au Monde!, mm.87-89, choirs B and C
Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
This musical choice places these poetic characters in a different light. Muehleisen
differentiates them from the more innocent individuals described in lines 12
an excellent example of how a musical setting adds an interpretive gloss to its text.
as he later makes explicit in line 22 – is not meant to convey any
sort of value judgment. The poet sees all, describes all, and “salute[s] all” (line 22). His
aim is to be inclusive. Muehleisen clearly does make a value judgment through his
compositional choices. However, this may be driven as much by musical as by
philosophical concerns. A musical setting of this poem in which all lines of text were
193

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
This musical choice places these poetic characters in a different light. Muehleisen
described in lines 12-15. This is
an excellent example of how a musical setting adds an interpretive gloss to its text.
is not meant to convey any
cribes all, and “salute[s] all” (line 22). His
aim is to be inclusive. Muehleisen clearly does make a value judgment through his
compositional choices. However, this may be driven as much by musical as by
is poem in which all lines of text were

194
treated exactly the same would be painfully dull – and would certainly not achieve the
“cumulative dramatic force” Whitman intended in his catalogs.
222

In section 4, Muehleisen initially recalls the same ostinato figure from section 2
(mm.126-131), but with the introduction of line 30 text in m.135 (“You vapors, I think I
have risen with you, moved away to distant Continents, and fallen down there”) –
initiating the poet’s journeys with the natural elements of water (rain, rivers) and wind –
the ostinato changes to one that is seamless (without rests) and accumulative (new parts
are slowly layered on over time):

222
Wannamaker, 299-300.

Figure 6L. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!
Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
195
Salut au Monde!, mm.126-136, choirs A and B
(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
195

196
The composer inserts original text linking the ostinato pattern with the poetic text in the
upper parts: the ostinato texts, “rise,” “blow,” and “flow” coincide with poetic texts about
“vapors” (line 30), “winds” (line 31), and “waters” (lines 32-34), respectively. The
additive quality of this ostinato allows the composer to build the texture to a highly
dramatic apex in mm.159-162, with the pivotal phrase, “Salut au Monde!” In addition, it
presents yet another musical realization of the idea of diversity within unity that is so
central to the democratic message of the poem, and to Whitman’s philosophical belief
system in general.
While the broad thematic content of the poetry is a critical factor in the
composer’s setting, there are numerous examples of how he responds with great
sensitivity to other textual features, such as visual imagery, metrical accent, and sonic
characteristics. Examples of text-painting abound. In mm.14-19, stacked entrances in
the chorus pair nicely with the text, “Such join’d unended links, each hook’d to the next”
(line 3). In mm.30-39 and mm.44-45, the contrasting timbres of men’s and women’s
voices illustrate the textual contrast between darkness and light.

Figure 6M. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!
Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
197
Salut au Monde!, mm.30-39, choirs B and C
(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
197

Imitative polyphony, a texture used sparingly in
meaning in mm.49-51:

Figure 6N. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!
Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde!

Muehleisen makes use of the unique sonic capabilities of his massed choir in mm.27
to create an aural representation of the Earth, “rolling through space”; he passes this text
(combined, interestingly, with a four
– a “round” melodic phrase) from a chorus on stage right, to one in the center of the
stage, to one on stage left. The sound of the chorus literally moves to express the textual
imagery.
The composer demonstrates considerable sensitivity to the
Whitman’s text in mm.74
relatively few accents, while lines 15

Imitative polyphony, a texture used sparingly in Salut au Monde!, highlights textual

Salut au Monde!, mm.49-51, choir C

Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
ehleisen makes use of the unique sonic capabilities of his massed choir in mm.27
to create an aural representation of the Earth, “rolling through space”; he passes this text
(combined, interestingly, with a four-note phrase beginning and ending on the s
a “round” melodic phrase) from a chorus on stage right, to one in the center of the
stage, to one on stage left. The sound of the chorus literally moves to express the textual
The composer demonstrates considerable sensitivity to the metrical quality of
Whitman’s text in mm.74-89, with the setting of poetic lines 12-16. Lines 12
relatively few accents, while lines 15-16 are dominated by them:
198
, highlights textual
(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
ehleisen makes use of the unique sonic capabilities of his massed choir in mm.27-28
to create an aural representation of the Earth, “rolling through space”; he passes this text
note phrase beginning and ending on the same note
a “round” melodic phrase) from a chorus on stage right, to one in the center of the
stage, to one on stage left. The sound of the chorus literally moves to express the textual
metrical quality of
16. Lines 12-14 contain

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘
12 I see all the menials of the earth, laboring,

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
13 I see all the prisoners in the prisons,

˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
14 I see the defective human bodies of the earth,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
15 The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,

˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
16 The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave

In Muehleisen’s setting, the upper voices carry lines 12
discussed) ostinato figure in the tenor and bass sections. The delicate melody easily
accommodates the strings of unaccented syllables in the text:

Figure 6P. Muehleisen: Salut au Monde!
Source: John Muehleisen, Salut au Monde!

˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘
menials of the earth, laboring,
˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ / ˘
I see all the prisoners in the prisons,
˘ / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
I see the defective human bodies of the earth,
/ ˘ / ˘ / / ˘ ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘
The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,
˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth,
In Muehleisen’s setting, the upper voices carry lines 12-14, supported by a (previously
discussed) ostinato figure in the tenor and bass sections. The delicate melody easily
tes the strings of unaccented syllables in the text:
Salut au Monde!, mm.75-78, choir A
Salut au Monde! (Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).
199
˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ / ˘ ˘ / / ˘ ˘ ˘ /
makers of the earth,
14, supported by a (previously
discussed) ostinato figure in the tenor and bass sections. The delicate melody easily

(Seattle: www.johnmuehleisen.com, 2006).

200
In contrast, poetic line 15 appears in mm.83-85, paired with the declamatory stacked
fifths theme, and jagged melodic contours in mm.87-89 accentuate the concentration of
accents in poetic line 16 (see fig. 6K).

Conclusion
Of the many aspects of Whitman’s poetry that could draw a composer’s attention,
it is the poet’s broad spiritual ideals that seem to most inspire John Muehleisen. Both of
his settings focus on the interconnectedness of humans with each other and the world.
The composer’s preference for thick chordal textures and relatively ambiguous harmonic
progressions provides an ideal vehicle for the unknowable, infinite universe that
Whitman so often invokes in his poetry. While all of the composers in this study derived
musical form in a fundamental way from the structure of poetic text, for Muehleisen, this
connection seems particularly pronounced. He not only aligns poetic subsections with
musical ones, but he often adheres closely to Whitman’s line structure. In his interview,
the composer addressed his role in relation to text: “To me the text is number one. My
job as the composer is to serve the text. At the same time, it passes through one’s own
personal filter, right? Hopefully, every composer who sets a given text has their own
particular approach to it, and their own particular interpretation of it.”
223
In both of the
works examined in this study, Muehleisen is both a careful, thoughtful servant of text,
and a creative interpreter.

223
Muehleisen, interview, 232-233.

201
Chapter 7
Conclusion

I am constantly searching for texts to set. I love lyric poetry and the kind of prose
that approaches poetry (the King James Bible, for instance). I can tell
immediately as I read whether the melody hidden in those words will reveal itself
to me. I feel the sounds in my throat as I read, and they either “sing” or do not.
The lyric brevity of Emily Dickinson is music to my ears, but the expansive
parabolas of sound in Walt Whitman (which I also love) are not. There’s no
accounting for it. We are each different and respond to different cues. (Thank
goodness!)
When I start to set a poem, I begin by copying it out in longhand, noting all the
punctuation, line indentations, verse separations, and spellings. Then I memorize
it, repeating aloud until I know it by heart (what a wonderful phrase). Often I will
then test myself by writing it out again from memory, checking that each jot and
tittle is correct. I want to put myself in the mind and voice of the poet, feeling as
though I myself had created these lines. As I speak, the phrase curves grow more
and more familiar, and the separating pauses take on their own pattern. I’m
digging down through the surface of the poem to its inmost structure – rhyme,
assonance, accent and cross-accent, pause and rush forward. The text is the
rhythm; the spoken sound becomes, in our inadequate notation, the sung rhythm.
– Alice Parker, The Anatomy of Melody: Exploring the Single Line of Song

Poetry is song and language at once.
– C. K. Williams, On Whitman

If there has been one particularly meaningful discovery in the course of this
research, it has been the realization of how carefully and thoughtfully a good composer
approaches a text when setting it to music. Although the precise approach varied
significantly among the composers featured in this project, all of them went through an
intense initial process of internalizing the poetic text through some combination of
memorization, analysis, and – most importantly – intuitive response. The composer’s
conception of the poem’s structure and/or content then determined the musical form

202
created to carry it. The lesson for the conductor (or anyone seeking to better understand a
musical work with text) is that the consideration of text should not be an afterthought in
the process of musical analysis. Just as Alice Parker seeks to “put [herself] in the mind
and voice of the poet, feeling as though [she herself] had created [those] lines,”
224

conductors should put themselves in the mind of the composer, and start the analytical
process with the text.
Interviews with the composers also highlighted the fact that their interactions with
poetry were primarily intuitive; thus, although the more formal technique of scansion was
used in this study to some advantage, specialized training in poetic analysis is not
necessary to perceive meaningful features of a poem. Likewise, knowledge of the poet’s
background and historical context can illuminate a great deal in a poetic text, but
ultimately, the initial power in a poem lies in its ability to communicate something
through the qualities of its language.
225

The intensive poetic analysis conducted in this study demonstrates the wealth of
meaning available to the composers, and the numerous ways in which Walt Whitman
used language to convey his intended message. Walt Whitman’s texts provide a useful
point of commonality, due to their continued relevance in modern life as well as the
distinctive quality of the poet’s style: “…a poet is defined most distinctly by his or her
music, and none…is more comprehensively defined by his music than Whitman. He is
his music, without it, as in the prose of Specimen Days, or Democratic Vistas, or Collect,

224
Alice Parker, The Anatomy of Melody: Exploring the Single Line of Song (Chicago: GIA Publications,
Inc., 2006), 23.

225
Fussell, 4.

203
he’s a sympathetic and often truly wise person, but he’s only that. It’s his music that
compels everything else.”
226
Direct incorporation of the poetic analysis into the musical
analysis illuminated how each composer responded to the texts he set: which elements he
responded to most, and which appear to have been less important.
A few important similarities between all of the composers emerge in this study.
First, all responded at some level to the structure implicit in the poetic texts. Whether by
setting each poetic line independently, as John Muehleisen did in That Music Always
Round Me, or by musically differentiating male and female imagery in a highly dramatic
fashion, as Nico Muhly did in his setting of “I Hear America Singing,” all of the surveyed
compositions display a distinct relationship between poetic and musical form. Poetic
imagery was also a central focus for all of the composers. For Robert Maggio, this
translated into a circular musical form to parallel the circular process described in his
setting of “The Voice of the Rain.” Steve Sametz chose a distinctive
solo/accompaniment texture in his setting of “The Frailest Leaves of Me” in order to
convey the textual imagery of shifting leaves as well as the thematic message of secrecy
and fear of exposure.
One poem set by each of the composers also happens to contain a catalog, or
litany. The responses to this particular textual challenge were varied, but in all cases the
musical form served to counteract the repetition inherent to the text. Sametz created an
underlying dramatic structure that endowed the lengthy catalog in “We Two, How Long
We Were Fool’d” with greater musical coherence. John Muehleisen also wisely

226
Williams, 147-148.

204
recognized the temporal difference between spoken and sung text: in order to “[break] up
the monotony” and thereby preserve the “power” of the textual litanies in his Salut au
Monde!, he purposefully placed musical transitions in the middle of them.
227
Nico Muhly
used his instrumental ensemble to great effect in his setting of “I Hear America Singing,”
by establishing an energetic dialogue between the text (carried by the chorus) and non-
verbal commentary (provided by the instruments). Robert Maggio, in his setting of the
same text, used the opening line as a sort of chorus, interspersed at regular intervals in the
poetic catalog.
One of the chief pleasures of choral music is the complex alchemy between text
and music, two art forms that by themselves contain such rich potential for expressing
meaning. It is my hope that this study demonstrates the value of incorporating substantial
poetic analysis into the process of musical analysis. In addition, the interviews conducted
as part of this study will provide a permanent record of the compositional process that
can be of use to future researchers in the fields of conducting and composition.

227
Muehleisen, interview, 235.

205
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208
Appendix A
Sample Interview Request Letter

December 11, 2011

Dear Dr. Sametz,

As I mentioned in my email correspondence with you, I am a doctoral student in the
Choral Studies program at the USC Thornton School of Music. I am writing my doctoral
dissertation on 21
st
century settings of the poetry of Walt Whitman, focusing in particular
on significant choral settings by American composers published between 2000 and 2010.
In addition to detailed analyses of the poems and the scores, I hope to conduct interviews
with the featured composers, exploring how each selected and approached Whitman’s
text(s) in the course of their compositional process.

I would like to include your composition We two for TTBB soli and unaccompanied
TTBB chorus in my study. In addition, I would very much appreciate the opportunity to
interview you about these works, if your schedule permits. The interview would last
approximately 30 minutes; in addition, I ask that you be willing to consider additional
questions that may arise as I gather and assess my data. I know that you are very busy, so
I will make every effort to take up as little of your time as possible. I am happy to
communicate with you by phone or email, whichever you prefer, and if you like, I will
mail a copy of my dissertation to you when it is completed.

If you are able to assist me in this research, please return one signed and dated Interview
Consent Form in the enclosed envelope, keeping the other copy for your records. Thank
you so much for considering this project.

Sincerely,

Amy Stuart Hunn
DMA ABD, USC Thornton School of Music

209
Appendix B
Sample Interview Consent Form

Investigator: Amy Stuart Hunn

You are invited to participate in a research study on contemporary American choral
settings of the poetry of Walt Whitman. The purpose of this study is to explore how a
select group of 21
st
-century American choral composers approach Whitman’s poetry –
both the unique technical and formal qualities of his work, and the broader themes that
permeate his poems.

You will be asked to discuss why you chose to set the poetry of Walt Whitman, and how
you chose the particular poem(s) featured in your composition(s). You will be asked how
and why you chose to edit the poem(s) (if applicable), including deletions, repetitions,
and re-ordering of text. You will be asked to describe your general process for setting a
work of poetry to music, and how this influenced your Whitman setting(s). Of particular
interest to the investigator will be which compositional choices were a result of a
response to the form, style or content of the poem. You will be asked if there were
challenges you faced in setting the Whitman poem, and whether these were specific to
either Whitman’s poetry in general or the Whitman poem you chose in particular. And,
you will be asked how you addressed these challenges.

The interview may be conducted by phone or by email, whichever you prefer. If
conducted by phone, the interview will be recorded, with your permission. The interview
should take no longer than thirty minutes. The need to pose follow-up questions is not
anticipated at this time; if the need does arise, however, it is asked that you be willing to
consider them.

If you have read this form and have decided to participate in this project, please
understand that your participation is voluntary and you have the right to withdraw your
consent or discontinue participation at any time without penalty. You have the right to
refuse to answer particular questions. Your individual privacy will be maintained in all
published and written data resulting from this study.

If you have questions about your rights as a study participant, or are dissatisfied at any
time with any aspect of this study, you may contact – anonymously, if you wish – Dr.
Deborah Huffman, Associate Dean of Doctoral Programs / Office of Doctoral Programs
and Alumni Relations / USC Thornton School of Music / Los Angeles, CA, 90089-0851,
(213) 740-2774, dhuffman@thornton.usc.edu.

The extra copy of this consent form is for your records.

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Appendix C
Sample Interview Questions

General questions:

Why did you choose Whitman? Do you know his body of work well?

Which edition of Leaves of Grass did you use as your source? (Why?)

Why did you choose the poems used in your works? What about them attracted you:
theme, form, style, imagery, some other practical concern?

Could you describe your process (if you have one) for setting a work of poetry to music?
What are your priorities/primary goals in this process?

What do you think were the particular challenges you faced in setting a Whitman poem to
music – were there general challenges you deal with whenever setting poetry to music;
were there challenges specific to Whitman or to the poems you chose?

Specific questions:

How did you choose the voicing and/or instrumentation for your works?

Do you have an overall philosophy when it comes to editing texts you set to music?

Would you discuss how you chose to subdivide the poetic texts in your musical settings?

What were your priorities when choosing how to set these texts as language? (i.e., did
you have any set philosophy or practice that drove your choice of rhythms, meter or
melodic contour?)

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Appendix D

Transcript of Interview with Robert Maggio (10.26.11)

ASH: For both of your pieces, was there a particular reason you chose a Whitman
poem? Do you know Whitman well? Do you really like his work?

RM: My relationship with Whitman’s poetry goes way back. I do like Whitman’s
poetry. He is a poet I frequently turn to when I receive a commission for a choral
work. I like contemporary poetry as well, but there are often rights issues that
pop up. And, those are difficult to deal with. So, when I go into the public
domain, Whitman tends to be the first place I look. My earliest Whitman settings
were written when I was in college. I was working on, I guess it was like a
dramatic cantata of some sort, using Whitman’s poetry from the Civil War era. I
think the most famous classical piece that goes with that poetry is The Wound
Dresser by John Adams – though that’s not a text that I had chosen for mine. I
fashioned a libretto that combined Whitman’s texts with Civil War-era songs. It
told a story of a soldier who had gone off to fight in the Civil War. It was, I
guess, partly an interest in history, partly an interest in the way that Whitman
reported on that history and gave a very human face to the soldiers. So, that’s
where it started. From that point, I went back to Whitman infrequently over the
next ten, fifteen years. When an opportunity came up, that seemed to be the place
to go.

ASH: What draws you to Whitman, besides the practical element? You mentioned how
he gave a very human face to war…

RM: Whitman has a kind of mystical quality. I happen to like the descriptive.
Whitman’s language is very rich in imagery, and I find that in itself is very
musical. His sentences and thoughts are long, flowing, rhapsodic sentences and
thoughts. And, they also speak to me like they’re music. Setting them becomes a
means of…dancing with them – interacting with them – with the language and
imagery. But, I think there’s certainly also just the simple love of language and
sound and words. And, the generosity of his language, as well. When you’re
looking for stark simplicity, it’s not there, you know? There’s something rich and
over-adhesive, and generous, about that poetry. So, in my sort of romantic
mindset, I think that’s what really appeals.

ASH: Were there particular reasons that you chose the two poems – “The Voice of the
Rain,” and “I Hear America Singing”?

RM: I’m trying to remember now if the commissionees had asked for a Whitman
setting, but I don’t believe they did. The first, I Hear America Singing, was

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written for the Reading Choral Society. The Voice of the Rain was written for the
Summit Music Festival. And, I don’t recall the conductor, David DeVenney,
asking me for a Whitman setting. I often do go to the conductor and ask what
their interests are. David DeVenney, who conducted the Reading Choral Society
at that time, asked for a piece for their 130
th
anniversary. David is a specialist in
early American music, and I think that in our initial discussions of what the
commission should be, we probably started talking about Whitman settings. It
probably just came up because there’s so much choral literature already. It
inevitably comes up - as a kind of common ground.

It’s funny, I knew from the start that The Voice of the Rain would have this really
unusual ensemble with two pianos and all of that percussion. I started reading
Whitman again - wisely - and when I got to that poem, I think I probably said,
“Yup, this is going to work really well with that instrumentation.” I had two
pianos, two glockenspiels, vibraphones, auxiliary percussion?

ASH: Right. It is a really unusual ensemble.

RM: Well, the other part of the program was Carmina Burana. They had two pianos
and a whole bunch of percussion. I knew for sure that I didn’t want my piece to
compete with Carmina Burana in any way, it being this famous, warhorse kind of
a piece. So, it seemed to me that the direction to go would be to write something
quite different in musical style and language. This piece took on almost a
dreamlike quality… When I think of Carmina Burana, I don’t think “dreamlike.”
The language and the tone of the piece aspired to not be the Orff. That’s where
this started.

It’s funny, too, as I look at these texts, “The Voice of the Rain” and “I Hear
America Singing.” There’s nothing about Whitman’s personal life in these
pieces, but I think growing up and being a gay man, and a gay composer, I’ve
always felt a strong interest in that. I have set Whitman poems that were more
focused on those themes - one was for the Philadelphia Gay Men’s Chorus, called
Open Road. Nothing about Whitman’s personal or sexual life was in it exactly,
but there’s always a sensibility in his writing – his openness in a kind of beautiful,
romantic way. I’m very much an open gay man. I have a partner of 20 years, and
we have a daughter who’s ten years old now. And, I teach at a university, and I’m
out. I just think there’s something important about my personal identity that
connects with Whitman.

ASH: Looking at his poetry, I feel that’s part of the reason that he’s still so meaningful.

RM: There’s something very forward thinking, and modern, and progressive about
him. I don’t know what his politics were, but he is still really relevant.

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ASH: Do you have a process when you set a poem to music? How to you begin?

RM: It’s funny, you learn a lot about your own process when you teach. It’s kind-of
useful. I have my students (and I do this myself), spend a lot of time reading the
poem out loud. I think it’s really important to have a strong sense of the rhythm
of the words, and a strong sense of the structure of the poem. So, I spend a lot of
time reading it, memorizing it, to understand something about the deep, deep
structure. I think the deep structure of the poetry then surfaces in the structure of
the music. So, in “The Voice of the Rain,” the opening question is, “And who art
thou?’said I to the soft falling shower, / which, strange to tell, gave me an
answer…” And when we receive the answer – “…as here translated: / I am the
poem of earth…” - there’s a harmonic change there, a really significant and
important harmonic change. When we get midway through the piece – this piece
modulates in these very colorful, chromatic ways – it rises upward to heaven as
they sing about this image: “…whence, vaguely formed, altogether changed, and
yet the same...” Then there’s a line, “I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-
layers of the globe.” I feel like this is the main turning point of the piece, where
all of the musical infrastructure starts falling. So, everything up until about page
20 of the piece is about upward motion, chromatically and structurally, and
everything after that is about falling. The musical structure follows the textual
images of upward and downward motion. That’s the general concept. Then,
there’s a whole phase of migrating back down again in a rounded form, and you
end with this image: “…with love returns.”

I typically don’t like changing text, but with choral music I’m much freer. In
songs, I tend to write as though they are lyrics to a song, or a drama that’s being
played out in real time. In choral music, I feel like I’m writing more of a
meditation, more like an aria would be. I allow myself to repeat words. I allow
myself to return images. “And who art thou?” returns in the very end of The
Voice of the Rain. It rounds the form out to the original key again, and the same
motive. It makes the piece, in my mind, a circle. I kept thinking about this piece
as a big circle. Where it ends is where it starts.

ASH: There are different elements of the poetic text that a composer could focus on –
the large-scale structure, or just the flow of the language, or the content of the
message, the themes. Looking at your piece, and talking to you now, it seems like
you’re really drawn to the thematic material – expressing it, and also adding to it.

RM: Yes. I feel if I pick the right text, then I can write a good piece. If I pick the
wrong text, I can’t write a good piece. I’m very, very particular that way. I spend
(and I’m sure a lot of composers do) a lot of time trying to get the right text. It
seems to me that if I’m going to spend that much time working on a setting, I
have to find a text that I understand, and also one that I think has room for my
ideas, musically. There needs to be something to elucidate in that text. This

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relates to the broad theme, but also specifics. So, there’s a big picture, and there
are also specific images that I can grasp on to and try to bring to life, really. It has
to be a reading of the poem that makes the poem – somehow – more than what it
was before. It’s not the same thing at all without the musical setting of it. I think
that’s true about I Hear America Singing, as well as The Voice of the Rain. It’s a
very rhythmic setting of that text. And, it’s kind-of like a big list song. In
musical theater, there are list lyrics.

ASH: Oh, is that right? It’s a form?

RM: It’s a genre. And, Whitman has these big lists. So, I feel like I Hear America
Singing is an…industrious setting of the text. It gets in there, it starts chugging
away, and it just keeps going.

ASH: I noticed that in general you don’t do a lot of editing or changing of text. But in
this one, in I Hear America Singing, you brought back the opening text several
times, almost like a chorus.

RM: Yes. Because the poem is essentially a big list, I thought, “What are they going to
grab onto?” So, you’re right. It is like a chorus. As a composer, I need a little bit
more structure than Whitman’s kind-of runaway thing of a text. So, that is a way
that I imposed a larger structure on the text.

ASH: And that was a musical choice.

RM: Right. I actually reinforce this with my students all of the time. I’m always
telling them, “Well, this is great, but I think we need something to grab onto. We
need a foothold or a toehold here. I don’t want to have the feeling that I’m lost
when I’m listening to this.” There are some pieces where that’s fine, pieces I
don’t mind being lost in, but often it’s great to have a little structure. Especially
in a text like this, where there’s so much variation. This is one of the challenges
of Whitman, by the way. You’re not dealing with lines, you’re not dealing with a
declamation that is in any way regular. There’s no sort of simple poetic meter.
One line is going to be different from the next. Yet, the lines have a very strong
sense of a rhythm within them, so you have to try not to impose too much
externally on them.

ASH: One question about The Voice of the Rain. When I was looking at the poem, I
noticed that there is a real division between the narrator’s voice at the beginning
and the voice of the rain when it comes in. It says, “I am the poem of earth.” We
just talked about there’s a big harmonic change there…

RM: Yes, and also – is that when the women come in?

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ASH: Yes. That’s right. So, it’s all men up to that point, and then the women come in.
There is a big textual division there, but it’s not marked by a key change, or any
sort of big sectional marker in your score. So, I was wondering –

RM: It rides on the end of the phrase, “…which, strange to tell, gave me an answer...”
And, that’s where there’s a new shift in tonality: “…as here translated.” It’s
funny, the harmonic arrival happens just before the answer. And, you notice that
the altos come in singing the same pitches that the men were singing: that D and E
major second on “I am the poem.” To me, the real “voice” [of the rain] is when
the sopranos one and two enter on those sustained B-flats [mm.41 & 43], a flat 6
th

above the tonal center of D. I love that entry. That’s the kind of weird,
mystical…

ASH: It’s a beautiful color.

RM: I like that they float in, too, in that way.

ASH: It’s a beautiful setting of that text. I really love that section.

RM: Thanks. I love that moment. I feel like that’s my personal moment: “Oh, that
works really well!”

ASH: Another thing that struck me generally about “The Voice of the Rain” was how
the poem is basically one sentence, and there’s a real flow to the text.

RM: Yes! It’s one sentence, and half way through that sentence is the text, “I descend
to lave the drouths…”

ASH: The text is this long, connected thing, and you managed to really sustain the flow
in your setting. At the same time, you have very clear sectional transitions
defined by the harmony changing, and the instrumental part - the texture
underneath - changing. I was curious about how you arrived at that combination
of elements.

RM: Well, I remember my pencil-and-paper thesis, where I sat at the piano for quite a
while in the earlier stages of drafting this piece - once I had spent the time to learn
the poem and speak it, and speak it, and speak it… I wrote individual lines of text
on separate sheets of paper, and then decided what tonal areas and motivic ideas
would work with each, and how they would transfer from one chunk to the next,
one harmonic area to the next. And, I sketched those out. But I wanted to keep
them sort-of separate in a way.

It’s funny how some of these things are sort of surprising. I look at the text now,
the second half of it: “And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own

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origin…” There’s this huge, climactic thing that happens on, “I give back life…”
I look at the poem, and it’s kind-of buried in the middle of the line. And yet in
my setting, that is practically in capitals and bold.

ASH: That seemed like the peak of the whole piece, for me.

RM: I think it’s just because that’s action. “I descend…” – that’s a big turning point.
It’s a verb, “I descend.” Then there’s all of this explanation: “…to lave the
drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe…” Then, “I give back life…” Again,
another verb. Something I do. That’s a big structural thing. “…and make pure
and beautify it...” There’s another structural thing. I make pure and beautify it.
Those are the active points of the text.

ASH: That’s so interesting. I was looking at the poetic form from the perspective of
sentence structure, and dialogue - but you really responded to the energy
contained in the language.

RM: Yes, right. What is the voice of the rain saying that it does? “I rise,” “I descend,”
“I give back life” – those tend to be the things that I go to. The images are great.
The other images around them are great, too - but these are the big focal points.

ASH: Do you have certain priorities when you set text to language? Do you have a
particular philosophy or practice about how you choose rhythms, or meter, or
melodic contour?

RM: Yes. I spend a lot of time thinking about different possible rhythmic settings. I
always want to keep the rhythmic setting feeling somewhat natural - at least, the
stresses should fall in the right places. I don’t always do it, but I think it’s really
important. Downbeats and higher notes tend to be accented. And, you know,
even just looking at the opening line, “And who art thou…” “And who art
thou…” It’s who and thou. So, I have to set “who” and “thou” as the important
words. “Who” is longer than “art,” and “thou” is the longest, and the line goes to
“…said I to the soft-falling shower.” I go through that and say, “Well, how does
that work?” Is that a triplet? Is that a sixteenth? Are there eighth notes? Is it
going to be syncopated? Some of that stuff is just an internal, “On this day, this
was my idea.” Once you find where the stresses are – which syllable is the
downbeat, or which is the stress tone, the other stuff can fall into place in different
ways. “Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer...” I didn’t connect “which”
and “strange.” It’s almost like there, that specific idea, “which” being an eighth
note with a rest after it, I’m looking for something more conversational. I guess if
I made it a quarter note it would be a better line, but I wanted to understand that
word. And, the same thing again with “tell” being shortened - not being a half
note. That’s a little parenthetical thought: “which, strange to tell, gave me an
answer…” So, I think a lot about the grammar of the language.

217

ASH: It sounds like it.

RM: My mother was an English teacher, by the way.

ASH: Oh, there you go.

RM: I’m particular about grammar and about sentence structure. And, this poem is,
again, nutty. It’s such a long idea. Just making sense of it could be the biggest
challenge.

ASH: You could have set this as one long, continuous thing.

RM: Maybe on another day, that would have been the place to go. I’m not sure. Oh,
here’s another funny thing. It’s funny the things that can influence a setting. One
of the commissioners works for Nonesuch Records. And, Nonesuch is Steve
Reich’s label. They have done a lot of minimalism, right? And, I am given two
pianos and four percussion instruments for this commission. Now, that is a Steve
Reich ensemble. It’s a kind-of bizarre, minimalist ensemble with all of these
matching colors of everything. I think that really influenced the fact that The
Voice of the Rain is so process-oriented. Everything echoes really close. The
piece doesn’t – in my brain – at all live in Steve Reich’s language. It’s certainly
influenced by American minimalism in its textural ideas, and all of those really
closely knit cannons and processes - very elemental shapes – all slowly
transformed. But, I’m more of a romantic to begin with. For me, it was really
useful to try to rein myself in like that. I was trying to limit myself in textures and
lines. I did feel inspired knowing that one of the guys involved with the festival
was a Steve Reich fan. You know, it just influences the way you start thinking.
Of course, I love Steve Reich’s music, as well. Although…I’m not a huge fan of
the choral music because of the way that the vocal lines get married to
instruments. Instruments doubling the voices all of the time. I don’t really love
that. But then, he can achieve a great overall effect. Like, The Desert Music.
That’s a piece that I remember first hearing and thinking, “This is incredible.”
Or, Tehillim. It was amazing just because I hadn’t heard music like that before.
So, a piece like The Voice of the Rain is almost unthinkable without American
minimalism, and yet it’s such an offshoot of that. It’s somewhere else entirely.
It’s not trying to be Harmonium.

ASH: I also noticed in The Voice of the Rain that when you get to the word “song” in
measure 162 – near the end of the piece – the texture underneath really lightens
up. So, you really bring that out. Was there a particular reason that you wanted
to highlight that word? Was it because it was set for a choir in a musical setting?
Was it some kind of commentary on that? Or, just that you felt that word was
very important in the poetic text?

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RM: Actually, I think it’s the punctuation. “And forever, by day and night, I give back
life to my own origin, and make pure and beautify it…” – semicolon. This is the
closest thing we’ve gotten to closure, right? And then, a parenthesis: “(For song,
issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment, wandering, / Reck’d or unreck’d,
duly with love returns.” That is almost its own sentence. It’s like he’s
summarizing there. He’s stopped talking about rain at this point, right? But, he is
sort-of shooting the image over to song. And, I think you’re right. I think that
there’s an important distinction that Whitman is making here between nature and
art. The music of nature. His poem itself is a song. He’s writing a song that
speaks about the voice of the rain – the voice, nature singing, nature’s voice. So
he comes back here and talks about what nature does – how it returns. And of
course, that’s, “duly with love returns,” and we land back on the low Ds. That
provides really important harmonic closure. There’s actually dominant-tonic
motion on the return. So, truly it’s really, really important.

ASH: Well, thank you so much for your time.

RM: It was a pleasure.

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Appendix E
Transcript of Interview with Nico Muhly (04.05.11)

ASH: I guess my first question is, why did you choose Walt Whitman in the first place?
NM: Well, actually it’s very simple. It was part of the commission, which makes it
very easy.
ASH: Oh, okay. It’s often driven by practical things like that.
NM: And in fact the commissioner - Judy Clurman, who is a wonderful choral director
- basically had her heart set on at the very least the first setting.
ASH: The first poem, “I Hear America Singing.”
NM: Which I think is one of these overset pieces of text.
ASH: Ah.
NM: And initially I resisted her, actually. I was like, "Oh, you can’t do anything else?"
But she seemed quite intent on it, so I thought, "All right, I’ll do it." But then I
was looking for other texts to supplement it that would be slightly
less…commonly found.
ASH: Did you know Whitman's work very well when you started on the project?
NM: Relatively well. I mean, like everyone, I read the Leaves of Grass. I had read as
much as I could get my hands on in high school. But I have to say I never got so
deeply into it until I was older, if that makes sense.
ASH: Sure.
NM: It was all very alien to me before.
ASH: Well, it’s hard - it’s a lot to get through.
NM: But anyway - I was - I mean one of the great things about being a composer is that
you can build a relationship with texts by setting them. Does that make sense?
ASH: Sure, absolutely. Do you happen to know which edition of the Leaves of Grass
you used as your source?
NM: Oh, my God. I have no idea. I don't know.

220
ASH: That’s okay. I don't know all of the different editions, either. I just was curious
because there are slight textual differences between them.
NM: Yeah, I was told that. I didn’t sweat it too much. And honestly, my process when
I'm writing, when I'm setting text, is I actually write it out again in my own
handwriting because I can space it out better. What I like about that is sometimes
I make mistakes, too. Sometimes I mis-transcribe things.
ASH: Do you change the spacing of lines and that kind of thing when you write it out?
NM: I won’t change the spacing of lines but sometimes I’ll rewrite it just so I can see a
bigger gesture. Like, I'll put everything as a paragraph, or - it’s sort of like
rearranging the Scrabble tiles a little bit because a setting is so different than a
reading.
ASH: Right, absolutely. That’s great. So, we talked about why you chose the first - the
first poem was chosen for you. Beyond being less-known, was there anything
else that made you choose the second and third poems in that set?
NM: Well, I liked them so much. “A Farm Picture” reminded me so much of my
childhood in Vermont. I was thinking about just that style. It’s sort-of a static
poem, which I like. The thing that can always happen in Whitman is, it can get a
little talky.
ASH: The lists and everything.
NM: “A Farm Picture” is very still. Like they stuck a pin in the image. So I like that a
lot. And then, I was also thinking about something like a piece of Americana but
just not as kinetic as the first poem. The first poem is kind-of like “Portrait of a
Society.”
ASH: Work and action.
NM: And what I like about the third one that I chose is that it felt almost political in a
sense. There was this kind of insistence, like it would take a mental action. So,
it’s somewhere in between the first and second poems; it’s like an invisible rigor.
If that makes sense? I mean, the first one is all about these visible actions. And
the third one just feels like a negotiation. It’s interpersonal and political.
ASH: It also references the artist, which is kind-of a nice way to pull all of that together.
NM: It seemed like it was a good sort of summary. One of the difficulties I also have
with choral settings of text - setting for one singer is one thing - but the choral
setting of a text is complicated because you have to imagine that it’s like a
hundred people singing this.

221
ASH: Right.
NM: So, there's a weird element of amplification that happens that I felt I had to temper
in the first poem. Basically, there's a really bad way to set that first text that
would be a very kind-of Christopher Guest situation very quickly. You know
what I mean?
ASH: Yeah.
NM: Like people doing little motions and stuff.
ASH: Very obvious, literal…
NM: Yeah. So, I wanted to make sure that there was something more poetic, to use the
word, surrounding it.
ASH: Like stepping back or looking more big picture?
NM: Yeah.
ASH: Let’s see, next question. Do you have a process for setting text to music in
general? And, if you do, did you need to change that for Whitman? What kind of
special challenges did you find in Whitman?
NM: Normally, I set a lot of religious texts, and they tend to be texts that I know very,
very well. So for instance, if I need to set a Latin Mass I wouldn’t need to look at
it because I know how it goes. What I needed to do for the Whitman was
memorize it. That was the first thing, because you need to have the overview of
the whole thing quite internalized. There's nothing worse than it feeling like it’s
being read. Do you know what I mean?
ASH: Yeah.
NM: So the first step was memorize. Step two, I rewrote it out in my own hand just so
I could look at the whole thing at once - so I wasn’t flipping between pages. And
then what I always do if I'm setting a text that I don't know well is write it out on
a big piece of tablet paper. I put the poem in one column on the left, and then on
the right I make my little notes and charts about what is going to happen. And it’s
really basic stuff. For the third movement, the note for that probably read
something like: "constant percussion, large explosion on the word 'you,’ ends
quietly." For the second movement, I wrote all of these images of satellites
passing over, a sort-of digital farm landscape. That was probably three sentences.
The first movement was a little more complicated because it's the longest. And I
also knew that I wanted to have this long interlude that breaks up the text, which
is a little bit, maybe, unorthodox. But I had to find a place for that to go naturally.

222
ASH: So that was already part of your conception before you looked at the text - that
decision?
NM: No, no, no. I mean it came from the text. I was looking at the text and there was
something very specific that made me do it. There's the list and then there's the
shift to the women. I wanted that to be marked very, very aggressively. It’s all of
this men stuff at the beginning, and then at the word 'sundown' you have this very
long, crepuscular interlude - it’s fully four minutes - for solo violin and organ.
It’s totally weird.
I wanted the transition from this kind of ‘muscle business’ to be made more
aggressive. And then when you get into ‘ladies’ space’ - which is what defines
the end of the poem - the textures just change entirely. I wanted to mark that
really harshly.
ASH: It’s in the punctuation of the text as well. It’s suggested. But then I notice -
NM: It is, because you have that semicolon.
ASH: And then you put another break before you bring in the closing text.
NM: Actually what it is for me is that once that lady thing happens, the poem then sort-
of hovers, in a sense. It’s like the idea of the men now is in relief of the women.
That was my perhaps slightly radical interpretation.
But he did something funny, too, with the plowboy. There's something very
poetic about how everyone's doing these specific things, and all of the sudden we
see the plowboy in three stages of the day. There seems something a little more
generous about that that isn’t just, "It's early morning in small town America."
Do you know what I mean? There's something like an RNC ad about the whole
first half of it.
ASH: He breaks his pattern there, too.
NM: Right.
ASH: Let’s see here. So, I'm going to go on to more specific things. What made you
choose the specific instrumentation?
NM: Again, the commission basically outlined that. Commissions tend to work like
that, where one doesn’t really have so much choice. Which isn’t to say this is not
what I would’ve chosen, but it’s definitely an odd combination.
ASH: It’s very effective, though. The percussion works into the text really well.

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NM: The more distinctive feature is the organ. That’s what makes it hard to program
and hard to perform. Using the organ as a chamber instrument, it’s not a standard
practice.
But there's also a little bit of word painting in the percussion instruments in the
first one. I feel like if you’re going to set that text, you have to at least nod to it a
little bit. You have to have one plank of wood and some metallic bell sound or
something, otherwise it’s too abstracted. So I knew I wanted to do that. But I
also knew that by the end I wanted to feel completely, completely abstract. And
you end up with all of these people just saying the word, "you, you, you, you,
you.” I almost wrote that gesture first, that gesture at the very, very end of the
third movement. That’s the place where all of the instruments are doing the most
essential thing that they do, if that makes sense. You have the lowest instrument
in the percussion, the bass drum, and the highest instrument in the percussion, the
antique cymbals, at the same time. There's something sort-of Biblical and sort-of
Psalm 150-ish about it.
And then it’s also the first time that the choir breaks up into as many parts as it
does. Each voice is in threes. I think I also recall that I played the organ my own
self the first performance, so it’s a really easy part.
ASH: That’s great. Let’s see, next question: I noticed that when you feature soloists or
individual sections, it is often the women. I think there was one line that the
basses got by themselves, but that was really it. Was there any reason for that?
NM: Well, I don’t really like the sound of a lot of men singing together. It’s a
preference thing. But also, one of the weird things about Whitman is that often
the way it’s taught is so butch. I just wanted to get away from that. I always like
the image of women that you see in Alan Ginsberg, which is him sort-of ogling
the shop clerks. To me, that is slightly more interesting. Do you know what I
mean?
ASH: Yeah, definitely.
NM: There's something very Disney-movie about the way you could do it wrong.
Like, "This is the mens' song."
ASH: I was struck by how you set the line, "I am a man who's sauntering along without
fully stopping."
NM: With women.
ASH: Yes, with the altos and the tenors. And I thought, "This is such an obvious spot to
have the men - the tenors and the basses - sing.” But you chose not to do that.

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NM: I wonder if in that case “man” is being used in the bigger sense, like a person. I
also like redefining what a man's voice sounds like. I like the idea that it’s the
low women and the high men. That’s your man. Whitman I feel allows for it a
little bit. There's a kind of fun neutrality. But maybe not. I have to say it was a
couple years ago, and I was trying to do a slightly radical thing to it. Because I've
heard this text set a lot. It’s one of those things where you think, "Well, I need to
do something a little bit different." Maybe now I would make different decisions,
or certainly less dramatic decisions. But there were a lot of instances like that
when I got to a line, and thought, "Obviously I'm not going to put men on this."
ASH: Did you have any kind of practice when it came to choosing to set text for the full
chorus versus just a section or a soloist?
NM: In the first movement, in a lot of cases they're all working. In the second one I
knew that I wanted everyone in the choir to be doing this weird Morse code thing
and the line to be sung by women, just because it’s a sound that I like. Now, in
the third one -
ASH: Near the end you've got a lot of duets.
NM: Really, the simple answer is just textural variation. And also, there's something
minatory about having an entire choir scream at you to do something. There's
something sort-of North Korean about it, and it’s nicer if you just have half of
them for a minute.
ASH: Part of the reason I'm asking these more open questions is that often conductors
look at a score and they make assumptions about why a composer chose to do
certain things. And it may just be reading too much into it.
NM: Yeah, in a lot of cases really it’s just about texture. I mean, the third movement is
funny because there's a lot of stuff in unison, there's not a lot of counterpoint in it.
There are individual lines, but the choir generally makes gestures all together. I
knew I was writing for a big choir.
Writing a piece like this, you have to play to the strengths of the performers
you’re writing for. And in the case of the premier, I knew all of the singers, and I
knew what their blend was, and so I was thinking specifically of them. But now,
of course, it has a life of its own. It’s an entirely different beast. Decisions were
made - "Oh, my friend might sing this and it'll be great." And then all of a
sudden, it’s some random ladies in L.A. And that’s fine. But decision one and
decision two are not necessarily related.
ASH: I noticed overall that you don't make a lot of changes to the texts. There were
really minimal things. I noticed in the first movement, in the line, "Each singing
what belongs to him or her and to none else,” you got rid of, "to him.”

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NM: Does the text say “him or her”?
ASH: In my copy, it does.
NM: I have “her.”
ASH: Oh, interesting.
NM: Wait, do you have some kind of new, revised standard edition? What do you
have? That seems so inelegant to say, "Each one singing what belongs to him,”
because we’re in the lady paragraph, aren’t we?
ASH: Well, yes, although actually this is getting into the last section.
NM: "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,” you’re saying?
ASH: That’s what it is in my copy.
NM: How strange. That’s definitely not what I have in my notes. But that’s really
interesting. Does that seem right?
ASH: Well, it depends if you group that line with the women or if you look at it more as
the culminating end text drawing everyone together. For me, it works either way.
I’ll look into whether that was changed in different editions, because Whitman did
that a lot.
NM: I’d love to know - if you find out when that happened, let me know.
ASH: I will. Let’s see, then in the second movement you repeat the line, “And haze and
vista.” I was just wondering if that was structural.
NM: I liked the chord and I wanted to bring in the violin. I try not to repeat text if I can
avoid it, but in that case I thought it was okay because it was static. Repeating
text, for me, is a feature exclusively of the silent reading of poetry. When your
eye glances on it, you can read the line combined with the line before it, if that
makes sense. You can kind-of go back. But with music, it has to be this constant
treadmill, and you can’t get off.
ASH: It’s linear.
NM: It’s linear, and you don't have the luxury of making those kinds of circular
readings. Occasionally I’ll indulge myself, but since this piece, I don’t think I’ve
really done that too much.

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ASH: I also wanted to ask about the repetition of the last word in the whole piece,
"you." You said that was something that you’d planned right from the beginning.
What was the thinking behind that?
NM: Well, it’s a great word to sing, number one. Number two, it’s got that delicious
diphthong at the beginning. And then there's the accusatory nature of it, right? I
like the way it’s used in this text. It really feels like the finger is being pointed.
So I knew that, and I also knew that by then the point had been made, and what I
needed to do was just dwell in this kind of ecstatic insistence. So, that’s what that
is. It happens a bunch of times with these elaborate variations in the strings. It’s
like you see the whole mechanism of the piece unfold.
ASH: So, we already talked about how you segmented the first movement. I was
wondering why you chose to put that big musical interlude at the beginning of the
third movement?
NM: Oh, I didn’t even think about it in that way. That’s interesting. What I wanted
was for the entrance of the choir to be very jarring. When the choir comes in
with, “Poets to come!” I wanted it to feel prophetic, like a lightning bolt. For the
instruments, the goal was just to have something that was clearly not related to the
music that came before. It’s the first time the players are digging in in that way,
and the technique is totally different. There's this constant pulse that we’ve just
not had at all for that whole second movement, just this insistent kind of
drumbeat.
ASH: When you were choosing how to set a particular line, did you have any particular
philosophy or practice in terms of how you chose rhythms or meter or melodic
contour?
NM: In general, it’s spoken rhythm as best as I can approximate. Sometimes I resist it;
that whole section about, "I am a man who…” is more abstracted. In general, I
speak the line. This is why memorizing it helps. You speak the line, and then
you understand what the contour of it is.
And then, with voices there's a pretty limited number of combinations of notes
and vowels that will actually be heard. So you can’t go too high or too low,
otherwise you won’t hear what's going on. For me, it’s usually pretty simple.
Then sometimes you find yourself making a choice that’s based on line rather
than text. I try to be as faithful to the text as possible, but sometimes you can
trick yourself into thinking that you’re doing one thing when actually you’re
working against it. But really, the technique is to know it, to say it out loud, and
then you understand how it naturally wants to fall.
ASH: So, it’s very intuitive.

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NM: Yes.
ASH: I noticed that in general you set the text at a fairly speech-like pace. But there are
sections where you don't, and I was wondering about those.
NM: In a lot of cases, what I was trying to do was call attention to the ensemble, or
make the ensemble be the thing that’s driving the car at that point. And,
sometimes the text is just this kind of wash.
ASH: Your use of the “dah-dah-dah-dah-dah” line and the Morse code stuff in a way
seems to blur the line between text as meaning and text as sound.
NM: Yes, quite so. In recent pieces, I do that a little bit better. It’s something that I
learned how to do in this piece, really.
ASH: I also wanted to ask about the second movement, where you break apart the text
into small pieces.
NM: Like I said, the second movement for me was a static thing. I felt like the text
could almost go in any order. I felt it more like a walk through a garden rather
than a walk down a path, if that makes sense. I used the rests just to delineate
some internal structure. But I also like there to be moments when you’re not
really hearing anything, you’re just hearing little bits of text and little bits of
mumbling.
ASH: It’s more about evoking a mood.
NM: Exactly, a more evocative setting. Also, the vocal line is basically a fast line three
times slower than it should be. I spoke the line, and then literally wrote out the
rhythms and then tripled them. So it’s just this kind of slow-mo thing.
ASH: That really speaks to the difference between city life and rural life, in a way.
NM: Exactly, but what's funny about the second movement is it probably contains the
most activity in the piece, in that Morse code. You know what I mean? It’s that
Quaker thing of the illumination coming from within, rather than from these
hysterical workman songs.
ASH: I also noticed that there are moments in the piece where you just pause
completely. There is either complete rest, or it’s just one instrument carrying
through. It’s pretty unusual. Would you talk about that – how you use silence?
NM: I always do, actually. I like to set up a rhythm and then just break it, not with a
variation but with actual silence. Also, with something as rich as this text,

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sometimes I was just trying to chill out. Sometimes the text was set like a wall of
sound, so this was a way of articulating it better. For me, a rest is very articulate.
ASH: Last question. I wanted to ask about the “dah-dah-dah” phrases. Is that
connected to your use of rhythm as a structural device?
NM: Honestly, those come up in a lot of choral things I've written. It’s a way of
signaling… It’s kind-of a code for me to myself. It’s like a focus, a way of
insisting on the procedure of listening. I almost see it as a test pattern or a sound
check or something, like I'm framing text with it. For the listener, you don't know
what they're saying and you’re wondering, "Is that content or is that not content?"
It also relates to a tradition in large American choral pieces. One of the best
examples is John Adams’s Harmonium, which starts out, "I never stoop so low,”
that John Donne poem. The choir is chanting, "Neh, neh, neh,” the first syllable
of “never.” So that’s five minutes. It's in this kind of shadow world of just this
raw syllable, and it focuses you on the text when it finally comes in. The other
great example of it is in Steve Reich’s The Desert Music, with text from William
Carlos Williams. There is a moment in it where the choir is going on and on, and
then at the text, "The mind is listening. I'm wide awake,” it immediately turns
text-less. They're singing, "dee, dee, dee, dee, dee." It’s so good. That sort-of
sums up his whole philosophy. Repetition and this meditative, wordless pulse –
that’s the sound it makes when you’re listening.
I use it in a similar way, but also as an homage to the tradition. And, it really does
help me focus. It's like a nervous tic. Like, have you ever seen someone sit down
at a dining table and touch all of the forks, or just make sure that everything is
kind-of in order? That’s sort-of what that is. It’s not a big deal. For me it’s like a
little punctuation / security blanket.
ASH: Well, Nico, thank you so much for your time this morning.

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Appendix F

Transcript of Interview with John Muehleisen (05.03.11)

ASH: For these two pieces [That Music Always Round Me and Salut au Monde!], how
did you decide to choose Whitman? Did you know his work well before you
chose the poems?

JM: Yes, I knew a lot of his work. Also, for these particular pieces, the conductors
both wanted something American. So, that was one of the chief criteria. And
when you choose an American poet, Whitman’s certainly got to be on the list,
right? But anyway, I’ve been reading Whitman off and on for many years, and I
have to say that I had always felt a little put-off by his self-referential stuff, the
almost over-emphasis on that. But, something that always appealed to me was
what a lot of literary critics call Whitman’s “capital K Kosmos” – his notion of
the interconnectedness of all things and all people. But, I primarily knew his
more intimate poems. The poems that I used for my song cycle, Apparitions, are
short, maybe two, three, four lines. Quite unlike most of what everybody knows
of Whitman. But for That Music Always Round Me, the commissioner wanted
something American, something that was celebratory, and something about
music, if possible. I’ve always been reluctant to set poems about music. There
are the inevitable problems of taking those text references to music and portraying
them with music. It would be too obvious; it would be too specific. But, for That
Music Always Round Me, I really settled on that text because I love the images in
it. The images are really compelling. I thought, “if I focus on the images, rather
than just on the specific music references, I think it would take it to a different
level for me.” So then, Salut au Monde! The theme of this NEA [National
Endowment for the Arts] festival – did I mention any of that? Or, did you glean
any of that from the score?

ASH: A little bit. I know it was a large choral festival, and I know you worked closely
with the conductor on the score.

JM: Right, right. So, this was for one of those NEA regional American Masterpieces
Choral Festivals. Those were done back in the 2006-2008 timeframe, I think.
This one was in Austin, sponsored by Conspirare. And, the theme that Craig
[Hella Johnson] had chosen was “Crossing the Divide.” So I wanted a poem, or
text of some sort, that would really reflect that theme. Because of what I knew
about Whitman – his capital K Kosmos, the interconnectedness of all things – I
thought that he would be the perfect place to look for an appropriate text. And, it
didn’t actually take me very long to find that text; it’s something American,
something broad and grand, something that reflects the theme. And, after talking
to Craig about that theme, and his concept of it – he really wanted to cross all

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divides that separate us, whether it’s gender, sexual orientation, politics, religion,
faith, geography. Even to the point of crossing the divide between the singers and
the audience. So, he was thinking very holistically about that. And, that’s
another reason that Whitman came to mind, because I think Whitman really does
think broadly.

We talked about that self-referential thing in some of his poetry. What I ended up
doing was – you may have noticed if you read the original poem, which it sounds
like you did – I removed the references to Walt Whitman.

ASH: Yes, I noticed the first line.

JM: “Take my hand, Walt Whitman.” No, no, no. I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t
want to make it that self-referential. I wanted the singers to reach out to the
audience and say, “…take my hand!” I wanted the opening of this piece to be an
invitation. And, one of the marvelous things about the performance (it could have
been pulled off really poorly, but it really worked well), for most of the pieces on
this final, closing concert of the festival, they put the text up on a big screen. It
was in a huge church. In these evangelical churches, they have these big screens,
so they can project the text up there when they sing during services. So they
projected the text for Salut au Monde! and the other pieces, rather than putting
them in the program. That way, people wouldn’t have their heads buried in the
program. Well, the image that they used behind the text was this big hand. It
could be done very poorly to have this big hand up there, right? It was done so
well; the graphic was so artistically done. And I thought, “It’s perfect. That’s
exactly what this piece is about. It’s about reaching out.”

So, what I got from Whitman’s poem – did you read the entire thing, by any
chance? It’s huge. I think it’s about as comprehensive a trip around the globe
and out into space that anyone in the mid to late 19
th
century would be capable of
uttering. I mean, the scope of that poem is amazing. That’s why I chose
Whitman. He captures that theme so well. He does reach out to everybody –
almost indiscriminately. “That Music Always Round Me” – when I stumbled
across that text, it definitely fit the theme and the criteria the conductor was
asking for. At first, I was hesitant to set it, but eventually it really spoke to me.

ASH: In your program notes for that piece, you describe how you were resistant to the
text at first, but then you kind-of just changed how you read it, or how you
approached the imagery.

JM: Yes, and I had to. Otherwise, I couldn’t have set it. When I first read it I saw the
instruments mentioned, and the voices mentioned. I thought, “Oh, man. This is
just too obvious.” I was looking for something a bit more obliquely referential to
music. But, when I read deeper into the poem, when I read the images associated

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with the soprano, and the tenor, and the violin and flute, then I thought, “If I focus
on those, I think I’ll be okay.”

ASH: Do you know which edition of the Leaves of Grass you used?

JM: I’m pretty sure it was the 1891-92 edition. I had two versions that I was working
from. I was trying to work from the later editions. I have a Penguin Classics
Walt Whitman: The Complete Poems, and I have the Modern Library Leaves of
Grass: The “Death-Bed” Edition. It’s very clear on the cover that it’s following
the arrangement of the edition of 1891-92.

I should also probably mention just in general what attracts me to poems and
texts. It’s really images, first. When I read a poem, I have to have some kind of a
musical reaction to it. There’s something I sense in a poem when I read it that
tells me I’ll be able to set it. It’s a little ineffable, but generally it’s the images in
the poem. So, for example, for whatever reason I don’t tend to be drawn to Keats.
And, I don’t tend to be drawn to poems because of their form. Right? Definitely
the use of language is what draws me to poems. There are a lot of different poets
that I’m drawn to. I like Nelly Sachs – I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of her.

ASH: No.

JM: She’s a German Jewish poet. Amazing use of language. She escaped from
Germany in 1938 and spent the rest of her life in Stockholm, but writes a lot about
the Holocaust. And, her German is very clear – very simple, in fact. Almost like
Lorca’s use of Spanish.

ASH: Oh, I see. Very spare.

JM: So, they translate very easily into English. But, it’s the juxtaposition of images
that really comes alive. Also, Gerard Manley Hopkins. Charles Sandburg’s non-
epic poems - again, as with Whitman, I tend to be drawn more to the intimate
poems, poems that are perhaps more influenced by Asian or Japanese poetry.
And, one poet that I’ve been introduced to lately is A.R. Ammons – I don’t know
if you’ve heard of him.

ASH: No.

JM: Fabulous stuff. I think he died in 2001. He’s originally from North Carolina. I
think he ended up teaching at Cornell.

ASH: This talk of poets leads well into the next question. Could you describe your
process, if you have one, for setting a work of poetry to music?

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JM: Generally speaking, yes, a very clear process. I actually type out the poem in
[Microsoft] Word, and I save a copy of it that is as close as possible to the
published version, with all of the line breaks and all of that. Then I copy that text
to another document, where I put about three to four lines of space between each
line. Then I print both versions, and I start reading the poem over and over. I use
the original one to read, and read, and read, and internalize. I use the one with all
of the space between the lines to start jotting down notes. If something musical
happens to come to mind, I’ll jot it down. But, generally speaking, I first analyze
the text in great detail, though not necessarily from the point of view of a literary
critic, right? I will sometimes read some literary criticism about the poem, so
that’s part of my understanding of it. But, primarily I look for connections, for
repetitions of themes. If I see, for example, a particular word or phrase used at
different places in the poem, I’ll make sure that I identify that, and highlight that.
And then I’ll jot some notes in the margins to say, perhaps, “Use this phrase. Use
same music for this phrase.” Or, “Use a varied form of the music for each
subsequent appearance of this phrase.” But, say that the phrase happens to
change in the context of the flow of the poem; then I’ll make a note to that affect.
So, I’m looking at the macro structure of the poem first, and trying to identify the
flow. What are some related elements? The recurrence of musical themes in a
piece of music is very powerful for providing structure, and for giving a
meaningful experience to the listener.

Then in almost every line I’ll identify the word or words that I want to color or
emphasize musically. As I go through the poem, I’ll just circle these, maybe
make a note about them. Maybe I’ll put something as simple as, “Bright chord,
solo voice.” So, as I’m going through, I start to think about musical images, or
musical gestures. I may have a particular sonority in mind. If I do, then I’ll
actually write that out in letters. I may write out rhythmic ideas, rhythmic
motives. And as I analyze the poem in this way, the music starts to take shape.
That’s generally the way I do it. Once I really feel that I’ve done a thorough job
with that, then I start just going through the poem and listening in my head. I
don’t like to go to the keyboard until as close to the end as possible, because I
don’t want to create a keyboard work. I don’t want the limitations of the
keyboard with my ten fingers to limit what I’m writing, since I’m writing a choral
work. I try to hear the choir of the mind as much as possible.

ASH: It seems clear that when you approach a poem, you’re really looking at structure,
even if it’s not metrical structure – the number of syllables per line, that sort of
thing. You’re looking for connections between images that structure the piece.
And, you’re trying to bring those out musically.

JM: Yes. Exactly. To me the text is number one. My job as the composer is to serve
the text. At the same time, it passes through one’s own personal filter, right?
Hopefully, every composer who sets a given text has their own particular

233
approach to it, and their own particular interpretation of it. For example, just the
other day I heard William Hawley’s “A Valentine” from his Six Dickinson
Settings. It’s the Emily Dickinson poem, “Sic transit gloria mundi.” He set it
kind-of as a madrigal. But, it’s still very light. I think that is one of her most
amazing poems. I set that for a commission for the Northwest Girl’s Choir in a
very different way than he did. But, it’s so interesting to hear how different
composers will render the same text, musically.

ASH: Yes, absolutely. Did you find that – given that you have this clear process that
you use for all poetry that you set – there were particular challenges, anything
special, about Whitman?

JM: Oh, yes. I think Whitman’s free verse can tend to get a bit prose-y, if you know
what I mean. It’s interesting. Sometimes I think he has some really compelling
poetic images. Other times, it tends to read more like his journaling style. I find
that even in “Salut au Monde!,” it can get a bit journalistic. And, that’s partly
how I chose particular lines, by the way. I tried to choose lines that tended to be a
bit more poetic. The first thing for me was to basically get around what for me
was an obstacle – aesthetically, as well as musically. I didn’t want it to come off
like I was setting a newspaper article.

In general, I do prefer freer verse to more highly structured rhyming patterns or
poetic forms. One of the reasons I’m attracted to that is because I think a lot of
lesser poets have a tendency to focus more on the rhyming scheme than on the
images or the content of the poem. Does that make sense?

ASH: Yes, it’s a constraint – the structure.

JM: It is – yes. And, I think they sometimes fall prey to that. I love Elizabeth Barrett
Browning’s poems. If you know her sonnets, she really transcends the constraints
of the form, because – like a lot of the poets I prefer who can deal well with a
rhyming scheme – she tends to carry a thought across the writing scheme into the
next line. So, for example, in one of her sonnets, the rhyme might occur in the
middle of a line of thought, rather than at the end. She doesn’t always make the
end of a thought coincide with the end of a particular rhyming scheme. That’s
what I tend to be attracted to in poetry, if it happens to be mapped onto a
structured meter or verse or rhyming scheme.

I found “Salut au Monde!” to be kind-of halfway in between. There is a lot of
compelling imagery, but I had to fight against that prose-y quality. The biggest
challenges were editing the text to an appropriate length. That was huge. I knew
that the poem was the right poem for this project, but it was clearly too long. I
think the piece is about ten minutes?

234
ASH: Yes, I think you’re right.

JM: It needed to be, because of the nature of it. It was for 600 voices, so it needed to
be of some weight, almost epic. It needed to be of a certain length, but not too
long, either. Editing the text to an appropriate length was probably the biggest
challenge. And then, I wanted to make sure that as I did that, I retained
Whitman’s intent for the poem, and the message – the poem has a real message. I
wanted to make sure that I created a text that still flowed, despite chopping it up.
And finally, I wanted to specifically choose text that would focus on Whitman’s
compassion – because I think he has a real sense of compassion in his poetry –
and on that sense of interconnectedness. That’s “Crossing the Divide,” that
central image of connection. And, it may not be a connection made. It may be
simply an openness, a connection offered, with that open hand.

I have to take a slight tangent. When I think about the open hand…have you ever
seen Dale Warland conduct, or been in a workshop with him?

ASH: I haven’t seen him conduct. I’ve certainly heard many of his recordings.

JM: Well, I have watched several of his conducting master classes, and I’ve talked to
him about this quite a bit. He has this gesture of an open hand when the choir is
holding out a chord. I mean, he will open that hand, and he calls it, “the
invitation.”

ASH: Oh. That’s a wonderful image.

JM: So, when he conducts a decrescendo, he doesn’t do it with the hand held palm
down, or with the hand held up and the palm towards the singers. He does it with
the open palm turned up. It’s very interesting. I had that image in mind a lot
when I was writing this. There’s also an openness to Dale, himself.

ASH: It speaks to the humility, in a way, of a conductor. There’s something about the
upturned palm. It’s not commanding. It’s offering – as you said.

JM: Yes. So, it’s a wonderful image. Just as a bit of a side bar, I had that in mind. It
was a surprisingly powerful and present image, while I was doing this setting of
“Salut.”

ASH: It ties in to the text, as well.

JM: Oh, absolutely. There’s that sense of compassion and interconnectedness. The
other thing that I wanted to do – and we touched on this before – was to minimize
the specificity of Whitman’s voice, and his propensity to self-reference. I wanted
this text to really “cross the divide” of specificity, you might say, so that each

235
listener is lead to follow on the journey, right? At the opening of the piece,
there’s an invitation from the choir to, “take my hand!,” right? And then it goes
into, “Such gliding wonders! Such sights and sounds!” To me, that’s also part of
the invitation. It’s saying, “Take my hand. Let’s go on this journey. This is
amazing, this world we live in – all of these cultures, and all of these people.” I
think that’s right out of the original, if I’m not mistaken. I think I used the entire
first stanza. And then the next line in the poem: “What widens within you, Walt
Whitman?” It’s a compelling thought, but it just felt like the piece wanted to
move on from there, so I didn’t include it. The invitation, and the lack of
specificity, draw the listener into the piece. I want them to come along on the
journey. I want them to think it’s their journey, too.

ASH: You were looking for universal language.

JM: Absolutely. And, that’s one of the ironies with Whitman, I think, as a poet.
Everything is so personal, but his view of the world is so universal. He becomes
the every man. But, he’s so Walt Whitman that it kind of works against it.

Another challenge was those lists – those endless lists. I mean, even reading the
poem, it gets a bit monotonous. But I also wanted to embrace…I guess you might
call it Whitman’s “cosmic litany.” In a way, those lists are litanies, like litanies of
prayers. In many ways, I think of this poem as a kind of a prayer. So, if you look
at the way I set the text, the litanies are in there. It’s the, “I see this…I see that...”
And, “Each of us this…Each of us that…” There are those kinds of repetitions,
but they don’t go on forever. Musically, each of those stanzas doesn’t use the
same musical material, either. That’s another way I broke up the monotony. I
love the litanies. There’s a kind of epic power to them. But if you just use the
same music, I think the text would lose that power.

ASH: I was wondering about that. So, the transitions in the middle of sections help to
break up the lists? That makes sense.

JM: Yes. Where I had sameness, as it were, in those lists, I tried musically to work
against that.

ASH: Ah. You also often created a progression as you went through a list.

JM: Right. To me, the lists kind-of build.

ASH: I guess we can move onto specific questions about the settings. The first one is,
why did you choose to set both of the poems a cappella?

JM: With Salut au Monde!, the choice was basically pragmatic. You can imagine 600
voices, a whole bunch of different choirs from all over the state of Texas. We had

236
Texas A&M, Conspirare, the Conspirare Symphonic Choir, some high school
choirs, several other college choirs… So, these were people coming from all over
the state of Texas. They had to learn their sections of the piece on their own, and
then Craig had to put this whole thing together. We figured this would either be a
spectacular performance or a spectacular train wreck! I said, “Craig, how do you
deal with this? I’ve never written anything this big before.” He said, “You know,
I’ve never done anything like this either. So, we’re just going to go on this
journey together.” That is the typical Craig Hella Johnson approach – calm,
measured, confident. Knowing the dangers, but not letting them throw him. We
just went forward. And he pulled it all together.

So, getting back to your question: from a practical point of view, if I had
introduced an instrument into this, it would have added yet another layer of
complexity. So I just left it with a cappella triple choir.

With That Music Always Round Me, I think I just wanted to avoid the obvious
temptation to use instruments. I could have had flutes and violins and all of that,
but I just wanted to let the voices tell the story. So there’s nothing really very
deep here. It’s sort-of pragmatic.

ASH: Well, that’s often the case with a commission, especially.

So, I noticed with both pieces that a lot of the phrases end with a held note. And,
often you have phrases that open up to a really big, thick chord at the end. I’m
just getting familiar with your work. Is this something that is part of your style, or
is it a particular response to Whitman’s poetry?

JM: I probably have a tendency to start phrases with a thinner texture, fewer notes, and
then to expand out.

ASH: And, a lot of rising lines. I thought that was really interesting. The melodic
contour often goes from low to high.

JM: You know, I think if you analyze a lot of melodic lines historically, you’ll find a
tendency for there to be a rise in the middle, or maybe about two thirds of the way
through – The Fibonacci Series, the Golden Mean, or whatever you want to call it.
There is a tendency for lines to rise, and then fall back down at cadential points.
I’m not sure that that’s anything special to me. Just out of curiosity, I’m looking
at the newest piece I wrote, for Wake Forest University Concert Choir. And, yes,
I look at it and there’s some repetition, and then it starts working it’s way up.
And, just near the end of the line it peaks at an E, and comes back down.

ASH: It’s very effective.

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JM: Yes, I think it works. I think it works psychologically. One of the things about
composing for me is that I think a lot about the psychology of the listener. I’ve
spent a lot of years in the high tech industry. You probably don’t know this part.
I decided I wanted to go into college or university teaching, but a lot of my
friends were getting jobs in the middle of nowhere. Not that there’s anything
wrong with it, but I decided that I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be writing
mainly just for my school ensembles. I wanted to be in a larger metropolitan area.
So, my wife and I decided to move to Seattle, where I got my master’s at the UW.
But in order to do that, I had to change careers. One of my doctoral minors was in
instructional systems technology. That got me interested in how people learn
cognitively. That got me interested in software design and usability testing – how
perception and cognition lend themselves to creating the user experience for
software. I did that for almost seventeen years, and now I’m back to composing
full time. I spent all of those years either managing teams or actually creating
user experiences for software, and so much of that is based on an understanding
of psychology. I learned a lot from that experience. As a composer, I feel that
what I’m doing is creating an experience for the listener…for the singers as well,
one must keep that in mind, too. What kind of experience are you creating for the
singers? Are they just repeating the same note over, and over, and over again, the
poor altos stuck with the same note?

ASH: I’m an alto, so I appreciate that.

JM: Give some musical interest to all of the lines. Consider all of the issues, like
tessitura and all of that. Also, for the listener, what kind of a musical experience
am I creating? The psychology of how human beings experience time is very
important. I mean, it was important when I was doing user experience design in
the software industry, and it’s especially important as a composer. I think a lot of
composers don’t even think about that, at least explicitly. Consequently, you get
a lot of works where the journey can break down at times. I think it’s really
important to shape the piece in such a way that you keep the user engaged. So, a
lot of what I was trying to do with these pieces, and what I try to do with every
piece, is create a sense of shape, both on the macro level and on the micro level. I
had a seminar in Schenkerian analysis in graduate school, and I think that shaped
the way I think about compositional structure, as well.

In terms of the ascending shape of many of the melodic lines in these two pieces,
I think the images in the poems particularly invited that. As for the final chord
being the longest in a phrase, that does frequently happen. The density of the
final chords… What normally happens at the end of a phrase, at a cadence, is
chords tend to be simplified. Right? Classically, to a triad, maybe even an open
fifth. What I tend to do is to actually build the texture. The harmonic structure
tends to increase towards the end of a phrase. It’s just something that really
appeals to my ear.

238

If you look at Salut au Monde!...go to measure 68. The cadence there, it gets
pretty dissonant. One of the things that I frequently have to talk to choirs and
conductors about when they’re performing my music is cadences like that. They
look at a cadence and see those held notes that you identified, and they try to
phrase it out like you would normally do at the end of a phrase in tonal music. A
lot of those points in my music are pointing toward the next section. They are an
energizing of the harmonic structure, and of the motion of the piece. If you just
hold them and phrase them out with a decrescendo, it’s like letting all of the air
out of a balloon.

ASH: Oh, I see. Like in measure 68, if I just looked at the word stress, I would sing it,
“PA-la-ces.” But, you would want, “pa-la-CES” – leading to “hovels.”

JM: Exactly. There’s a good reason for that. I wanted this grand, almost screaming,
“palaces.” Because if you look at the way that builds, it builds up from things that
are very humble: “farms, hamlets, graveyards, jails, factories…” The speaker
sees all of these things, and it’s almost overwhelming. The “palaces” is not there
to be grand. Right? That big, bold statement is not something that is grand. It’s
outrage. You’re moving from things like farms and hamlets and ruins and
graveyards, jails, factories. None of those are grand in any way. It’s almost this
outrage for palaces of the rich and the noble. What about all of the common
people? The mass of humanity? Then it goes right into “hovels,” and the music
comes down to this very humble sort of texture. It’s just a triad. There’s a
statement there that I’m trying to make, harmonically. Does that makes sense?

ASH: Yes. It does. You know, what is striking to me is that you clearly look very
closely at the text and the meaning of the text, but when you’re setting it, it’s
almost – in a way it seems to me almost instrumental. As if you’re representing
the meaning, but you’re not getting hung up so much on the word stress and the
intricacies of the language itself. I don’t know if you’d agree with that.

JM: I don’t know. That’s interesting. I mean, I hope I’m following the word stress.

ASH: Well, I’m just looking at the word, “palaces,” where you said that often with
choirs who are doing your works, you have to work on getting them away from
the traditional way of closing a phrase. In a way, that’s going against the word
stress, but it’s bringing out another layer of meaning.

JM: Oh, I see what you’re saying. Yes. Exactly.

ASH: That’s fascinating. Well, we should probably move ahead. So, how did you
choose to subdivide the texts? You spoke to that a little bit when you talked about
your process.

239

JM: Right. Many of the divisions in the Salut au Monde! text are based on how
Whitman arranged the stanzas in his original. I preserved some of that, but I
changed the order of lines. For example, the second stanza in my text, “I see a
great round wonder...” I think I changed the order of text there quite a bit,
because I wanted to focus on the more compassionate aspects of Whitman’s text.
So, “I see the filaments of the news of the wars, death, losses, passions of my
race…” Then it moves on to “battlefields” after that. Then, the “farms, hamlets,”
et cetera, et cetera. Then, the “huts and tents of nomads.” That all leads into, “I
see all the menials of the earth, laboring.” That, I think, is one of the most
sensitive and compassionate statements in there. It talks about “the menials,” “the
prisoners,” “the defective human bodies.” He lists them: “The blind, the deaf and
dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics.” And, again, what you’ll notice when it
builds up there – “The blind, the deaf and dumb” – it’s very similar music to, “I
see farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyards…” I was thinking about someone trying to
take in all of the world, and all of the various cultural and social aspects of that. It
would be so overwhelming. So, musically, that’s part of what’s happening there.

I kept the beginnings of many of his stanzas. There’s a shape to each of those
stanzas. Starting with, “I see all the menials,” and building up to, “lunatics.”
Right? And then it winds down to, “the helpless old men and women.” It builds
up again to that final line, “all the inhabitants,” and then Whitman addresses
everybody: “You whoever you are!” It’s the greeting. Finally, we get the
greeting. “Oh, take my hand!” – you could say that’s the incipit, or the
antecedent; then he lists all of the places, all of the people; and finally, he gives
the greeting. “You whoever you are! / Health to you! Good will to you all!, from
me and America sent!” That, in a way, is the answer, or the inevitable conclusion
to, “Oh, take my hand!” You go on this journey, and then he gives his greeting.

ASH: It’s a real sense of closure, although it’s in the middle of the piece.

JM: Right. It’s about two-thirds of the way through.

ASH: There’s your golden mean again.

JM: That’s right. It was that class I took on Bartók. I’ve never been the same since.

“Each of us inevitable...” Here, it moves to something very different than what
happens in the second and third stanzas. Those stanzas are basically this huge,
compassionate litany of all of the people, and it’s not just a pretty picture. It’s
compassion for all. It starts to turn in the stanza with the line, “I see male and
female everywhere.” It starts to get a bit more noble: “I see the constructiveness
of my race, / I see the perseverance of my race.” And then after the greeting, it
moves on to, “Each of us inevitable,” Look at the very positive way that

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Whitman sees people. This section ends with this very important line, “My spirit
has pass’d in compassion around the whole earth.” That is isolated there. I
wanted to really emphasize that line. The next stanza is a real thrust, Whitman’s
spirit kind-of circling the globe: “You vapors…” all the way to “…high
embedded rocks...” That whole section builds and builds and builds. It’s
probably the biggest climax of the piece. And finally we get, “Salut au Monde!”
The greeting. I think that’s the actual last stanza of the poem. I structured the
text that way very purposefully.

ASH: I just had one last, very minor question about Salut au Monde!. In measures 134
to 158, you added the words “rise,” “blow,” and “flow” in the choral parts that
aren’t carrying the poetic text. You could have just used a neutral syllable like
“Oooo,” but you didn’t.

JM: I could have. Actually, look in measure 72 – that “Oh,” when the ostinato starts.
The ostinato at measure 134 is an extension of that, and kind of a transformation.
I guess I would call the earlier one “the laboring ostinato.” It starts right before,
“I see all the menials of the earth, laboring…” What I wanted with that ostinato
was a laboring, burdened sort of sound. Imagine people dragging large, heavy
objects, sacks on their backs. When we get to measure 126, it comes back, but
under a more compassionate text: “My spirit has passed in compassion…” That
starts out as octaves, which is really important for what I’m trying to say there. I
think it’s the first time I’ve used octaves in this way in the piece. It has kind of a
unity to it. Then that new ostinato starts at 134. I didn’t want to just use the
vowel again, so the “rise” comes out of the text, “I think I have risen with you...”

ASH: “Blow” comes from “…blown...”

JM: And “flow,” it doesn’t appear in the text, but I just used it because it’s a reference
to water. I didn’t want to simply go to another vowel there. So, that’s where that
comes from.

ASH: Well, this has been great. Thank you so much for your time. I think I got even
more information than I expected.

JM: You’re welcome.

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Appendix G

Placement of Poems in Leaves of Grass

Poem Poetic Cluster Set By

As Adam Early in the Morning Children of Adam Sametz
Earth, My Likeness Calamus Sametz
A Farm Picture By the Roadside Muhly
Here the Frailest Leaves of Me Calamus Sametz
I Am He that Aches with Love Children of Adam Sametz
I Hear America Singing Inscriptions Maggio, Muhly
Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes Calamus Sametz
Poets to Come Inscriptions Muhly
Salut au Monde! Salut au Monde! Muehleisen
That Music Always Round Me Whispers of Heavenly Death Muehleisen
To You Inscriptions Sametz
We Two, How Long We Were Fool’d Children of Adam Sametz
The Voice of the Rain First Annex: Sands at Seventy Maggio

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Appendix H

Comparison of Original and Muehleisen “Salut au Monde!” Texts

Source: Walt Whitman, Whitman: Poetry and Prose, ed. Justin Kaplan (New York: Literary Classics of the
United States, 1982), 287-297.

Note: The portions of poetic text utilized by John Muehleisen in his setting have been underlined.
Whitman’s poem contains both roman and italicized type, and also does not include a section “9.”

1

O take my hand Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next,
Each answering all, each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and cities are here?
Who are the infants, some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they fill'd with dwellers?

2

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens,
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east – America is provided for in the west,
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends,
Within me is the longest day, the sun wheels in slanting rings, it does not set for months,
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the horizon and sinks
again,
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, forests, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

3

What do you hear Walt Whitman?

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I hear the workman singing and the farmer's wife singing,
I hear in the distance the sounds of children and of animals early in the day,
I hear emulous shouts of Australians pursuing the wild horse,
I hear the Spanish dance with castanets in the chestnut shade, to the rebeck and guitar,
I hear continual echoes from the Thames,
I hear fierce French liberty songs,
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old poems,
I hear the locusts in Syria as they strike the grain and grass with the showers of their
terrible clouds,
I hear the Coptic refrain toward sundown, pensively falling on the breast of the black
venerable vast mother the Nile,
I hear the chirp of the Mexican muleteer, and the bells of the mule,
I hear the Arab muezzin calling from the top of the mosque,
I hear the Christian priests at the altars of their churches, I hear the responsive base and
soprano,
I hear the cry of the Cossack, and the sailor's voice putting to sea at Okotsk,
I hear the wheeze of the slave-coffle as the slaves march on, as the husky gangs pass on
by twos and threes, fasten'd together with wrist-chains and ankle-chains,
I hear the Hebrew reading his records and psalms,
I hear the rhythmic myths of the Greeks, and the strong legends of the Romans,
I hear the tale of the divine life and bloody death of the beautiful God the Christ,
I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the loves, wars, adages, transmitted safely to
this day from poets who wrote three thousand years ago.

4

What do you see Walt Whitman?
Who are they you salute, and that one after another salute you?

I see a great round wonder rolling through space,
I see diminute farms, hamlets, ruins, graveyards, jails, factories, palaces, hovels, huts of
barbarians, tents of nomads upon the surface,
I see the shaded part on one side where the sleepers are sleeping, and the sunlit part on
the other side,
I see the curious rapid change of the light and shade,
I see distant lands, as real and near to the inhabitants of them as my land is to me.

I see plenteous waters,
I see mountain peaks, I see the sierras of Andes where they range,
I see plainly the Himalayas, Chian Shahs, Altays, Ghauts,
I see the giant pinnacles of Elbruz, Kazbek, Bazardjusi,
I see the Styrian Alps, and the Karnac Alps,

244
I see the Pyrenees, Balks, Carpathians, and to the north the Dofrafields, and off at sea
mount Hecla,
I see Vesuvius and Etna, the mountains of the Moon, and the Red mountains of
Madagascar,
I see the Lybian, Arabian, and Asiatic deserts,
I see huge dreadful Arctic and Antarctic icebergs,
I see the superior oceans and the inferior ones, the Atlantic and Pacific, the sea of
Mexico, the Brazilian sea, and the sea of Peru,
The waters of Hindustan, the China sea, and the gulf of Guinea,
The Japan waters, the beautiful bay of Nagasaki land-lock'd in its mountains,
The spread of the Baltic, Caspian, Bothnia, the British shores, and the bay of Biscay,
The clear-sunn'd Mediterranean, and from one to another of its islands,
The White sea, and the sea around Greenland.

I behold the mariners of the world,
Some are in storms, some in the night with the watch on the lookout,
Some drifting helplessly, some with contagious diseases.

I behold the sail and steamships of the world, some in clusters in port, some on their
voyages,
Some double the cape of Storms, some cape Verde, others capes Guardafui, Bon, or
Bajadore,
Others Dondra head, others pass the straits of Sunda, others cape Lopatka, others
Behring's straits,
Others cape Horn, others sail the gulf of Mexico or along Cuba or Hayti, others Hudson's
bay or Baffin's bay,
Others pass the straits of Dover, others enter the Wash, others the firth of Solway, others
round cape Clear, others the Land's End,
Others traverse the Zuyder Zee or the Scheld,
Others as comers and goers at Gibraltar or the Dardanelles,
Others sternly push their way through the northern winter-packs,
Others descend or ascend the Obi or the Lena,
Others the Niger or the Congo, others the Indus, the Burampooter and Cambodia,
Others wait steam'd up ready to start in the ports of Australia,
Wait at Liverpool, Glasgow, Dublin, Marseilles, Lisbon, Naples, Hamburg, Bremen,
Bordeaux, the Hague, Copenhagen,
Wait at Valparaiso, Rio Janeiro, Panama.

5

I see the tracks of the railroads of the earth,
I see them in Great Britain, I see them in Europe,
I see them in Asia and in Africa.

245
I see the electric telegraphs of the earth,
I see the filaments of the news of the wars, deaths, losses, gains, passions, of my race.

I see the long river-stripes of the earth,
I see the Amazon and the Paraguay,
I see the four great rivers of China, the Amour, the Yellow River, the Yiang-tse, and the
Pearl,
I see where the Seine flows, and where the Danube, the Loire, the Rhone, and the
Guadalquiver flow,
I see the windings of the Volga, the Dnieper, the Oder,
I see the Tuscan going down the Arno, and the Venetian along the Po,
I see the Greek seaman sailing out of Egina bay.

6

I see the site of the old empire of Assyria, and that of Persia, and that of India,
I see the falling of the Ganges over the high rim of Saukara.

I see the place of the idea of the Deity incarnated by avatars in human forms,
I see the spots of the successions of priests on the earth, oracles, sacrificers, brahmins,
sabians, llamas, monks, muftis, exhorters,
I see where druids walk'd the groves of Mona, I see the mistletoe and vervain,
I see the temples of the deaths of the bodies of Gods, I see the old signifiers.

I see Christ eating the bread of his last supper in the midst of youths and old persons,
I see where the strong divine young man the Hercules toil'd faithfully and long and then
died,
I see the place of the innocent rich life and hapless fate of the beautiful nocturnal son, the
full-limb'd Bacchus,
I see Kneph, blooming, drest in blue, with the crown of feathers on his head,
I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-belov'd, saying to the people Do not weep for me,
This is not my true country, I have lived banish'd from my true country, I now go back
there,
I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn.

7

I see the battle-fields of the earth, grass grows upon them and blossoms and corn,
I see the tracks of ancient and modern expeditions.

I see the nameless masonries, venerable messages of the unknown events, heroes, records
of the earth.

246

I see the places of the sagas,
I see pine-trees and fir-trees torn by northern blasts,
I see granite bowlders and cliffs, I see green meadows and lakes,
I see the burial-cairns of Scandinavian warriors,
I see them raised high with stones by the marge of restless oceans, that the dead men's
spirits when they wearied of their quiet graves might rise up through the mounds
and gaze on the tossing billows, and be refresh'd by storms, immensity, liberty,
action.

I see the steppes of Asia,
I see the tumuli of Mongolia, I see the tents of Kalmucks and Baskirs,
I see the nomadic tribes with herds of oxen and cows,
I see the table-lands notch'd with ravines, I see the jungles and deserts,
I see the camel, the wild steed, the bustard, the fat-tail'd sheep, the antelope, and the
burrowing wolf

I see the highlands of Abyssinia,
I see flocks of goats feeding, and see the fig-tree, tamarind, date,
And see fields of teff-wheat and places of verdure and gold.

I see the Brazilian vaquero,
I see the Bolivian ascending mount Sorata,
I see the Wacho crossing the plains, I see the incomparable rider of horses with his lasso
on his arm,
I see over the pampas the pursuit of wild cattle for their hides.

8

I see the regions of snow and ice,
I see the sharp-eyed Samoiede and the Finn,
I see the seal-seeker in his boat poising his lance,
I see the Siberian on his slight-built sledge drawn by dogs,
I see the porpoise-hunters, I see the whale-crews of the south Pacific and the north
Atlantic,
I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys, of Switzerland – I mark the long winters and the
isolation.

I see the cities of the earth and make myself at random a part of them,
I am a real Parisian,
I am a habitan of Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Constantinople,
I am of Adelaide, Sidney, Melbourne,
I am of London, Manchester, Bristol, Edinburgh, Limerick,

247
I am of Madrid, Cadiz, Barcelona, Oporto, Lyons, Brussels, Berne, Frankfort, Stuttgart,
Turin, Florence,
I belong in Moscow, Cracow, Warsaw, or northward in Christiania or Stockholm, or in
Siberian Irkutsk, or in some street in Iceland,
I descend upon all those cities, and rise from them again.

10

I see vapors exhaling from unexplored countries,
I see the savage types, the bow and arrow, the poison'd splint, the fetich, and the obi.

I see African and Asiatic towns,
I see Algiers, Tripoli, Derne, Mogadore, Timbuctoo, Monrovia,
I see the swarms of Pekin, Canton, Benares, Delhi, Calcutta, Tokio,
I see the Kruman in his hut, and the Dahoman and Ashantee-man in their huts,
I see the Turk smoking opium in Aleppo,
I see the picturesque crowds at the fairs of Khiva and those of Herat,
I see Teheran, I see Muscat and Medina and the intervening sands, see the caravans
toiling onward,
I see Egypt and the Egyptians, I see the pyramids and obelisks.
I look on chisell'd histories, records of conquering kings, dynasties, cut in slabs of
sand-stone, or on granite-blocks,
I see at Memphis mummy-pits containing mummies embalm'd, swathed in linen cloth,
lying there many centuries,
I look on the fall'n Theban, the large-ball'd eyes, the side-drooping neck, the hands folded
across the breast.

I see all the menials of the earth, laboring,
I see all the prisoners in the prisons,
I see the defective human bodies of the earth,
The blind, the deaf and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics,
The pirates, thieves, betrayers, murderers, slave-makers of the earth,
The helpless infants, and the helpless old men and women.

I see male and female everywhere,
I see the serene brotherhood of philosophs,
I see the constructiveness of my race,
I see the results of the perseverance and industry of my race,
I see ranks, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, I go among them, I mix indiscriminately,
And I salute all the inhabitants of the earth.

248
11

You whoever you are!
You daughter or son of England!
You of the mighty Slavic tribes and empires! you Russ in Russia!
You dim-descended, black, divine-soul'd African, large, fine-headed, nobly-form'd,
superbly destin'd, on equal terms with me!
You Norwegian! Swede! Dane! Icelander! you Prussian!
You Spaniard of Spain! you Portuguese!
You Frenchwoman and Frenchman of France!
You Belge! you liberty-lover of the Netherlands! (you stock whence I myself have
descended;)
You sturdy Austrian! you Lombard! Hun! Bohemian! farmer of Styria!
You neighbor of the Danube!
You working-man of the Rhine, the Elbe, or the Weser! you working-woman too!
You Sardinian! you Bavarian! Swabian! Saxon! Wallachian! Bulgarian!
You Roman! Neapolitan! you Greek!
You lithe matador in the arena at Seville!
You mountaineer living lawlessly on the Taurus or Caucasus!
You Bokh horse-herd watching your mares and stallions feeding!
You beautiful-bodied Persian at full speed in the saddle shooting arrows to the mark!
You Chinaman and Chinawoman of China! you Tartar of Tartary!
You women of the earth subordinated at your tasks!
You Jew journeying in your old age through every risk to stand once on Syrian ground!
You other Jews waiting in all lands for your Messiah!
You thoughtful Armenian pondering by some stream of the Euphrates! you peering amid
the ruins of Nineveh! you ascending mount Ararat!
You foot-worn pilgrim welcoming the far-away sparkle of the minarets of Mecca!
You sheiks along the stretch from Suez to Bab-el-mandeb ruling your families and tribes!
You olive-grower tending your fruit on fields of Nazareth, Damascus, or lake Tiberias!
You Thibet trader on the wide inland or bargaining in the shops of Lassa!
You Japanese man or woman! you liver in Madagascar, Ceylon, Sumatra, Borneo!
All you continentals of Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, indifferent of place!
All you on the numberless islands of the archipelagoes of the sea!
And you of centuries hence when you listen to me!
And you each and everywhere whom I specify not, but include just the same!
Health to you! good will to you all, from me and America sent!

Each of us inevitable,
Each of us limitless – each of us with his or her right upon the earth,
Each of us allow'd the eternal purports of the earth,
Each of us here as divinely as any is here.

249
12

You Hottentot with clicking palate! you woolly-hair'd hordes!
You own'd persons dropping sweat-drops or blood-drops!
You human forms with the fathomless ever-impressive countenances of brutes!
You poor koboo whom the meanest of the rest look down upon for all your glimmering
language and spirituality!
You dwarf'd Kamtschatkan, Greenlander, Lapp!
You Austral negro, naked, red, sooty, with protrusive lip, groveling, seeking your food!
You Caffre, Berber, Soudanese!
You haggard, uncouth, untutor'd Bedowee!
You plague-swarms in Madras, Nankin, Kaubul, Cairo!
You benighted roamer of Amazonia! you Patagonian! you Feejeeman!
I do not prefer others so very much before you either,
I do not say one word against you, away back there where you stand,
(You will come forward in due time to my side.)

13

My spirit has pass'd in compassion and determination around the whole earth,
I have look'd for equals and lovers and found them ready for me in all lands,
I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them.

You vapors, I think I have risen with you, moved away to distant continents, and fallen
down there, for reasons,
I think I have blown with you you winds;
You waters I have finger'd every shore with you,
I have run through what any river or strait of the globe has run through,
I have taken my stand on the bases of peninsulas and on the high embedded rocks, to cry
thence:

Salut au Monde!
What cities the light or warmth penetrates I penetrate those cities myself,
All islands to which birds wing their way I wing my way myself.

Toward you all, in America's name,
I raise high the perpendicular hand, I make the signal,
To remain after me in sight forever,
For all the haunts and homes of men.

Abstract (if available)

Abstract Choral compositions, with few exceptions, begin with text. Text comes first, music comes second. This was true for the medieval cleric setting Gregorian chant, and it is true for the 21st-century composer creating a new work. The relationship between text and music is a complex one. There is a distinct element of music involved in the creation of poetry – and inherent to the poetic form itself, as a result. In setting a text to music, a composer does more than simply respond to the meaning of the words: there is the music of the text, expressed in its structure and form, its imagery, its sonic characteristics, its pace, and its affect, that determines a composer’s musical response to it. Like poetry, music has the potential to convey far more than just the information contained within its component parts. Its meaning goes well beyond what can be printed on the page, either in the form of written language or musical notation. The combination of music and poetry, each with its own distinctly indefinable component, makes choral music a particularly rich source of potential meaning, but also particularly challenging to analyze. ❧ That complex relationship between music and text is the real focus of this dissertation. The project itself employs a relatively narrow focus

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University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

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Asset Metadata

Creator Hunn, Amy Stuart (author)

Core Title "That music always round me": 21st century choral settings of the poetry of Walt Whitman

School Thornton School of Music

Degree Doctor of Musical Arts

Degree Program Choral Music

Publication Date 05/01/2012

Defense Date 05/01/2012

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag choral,John Muehleisen,Nico Muhly,OAI-PMH Harvest,Poetry,Robert Maggio,Steven Sametz,Walt Whitman

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Grases, Cristian F. (committee chair), Gilbert, Adam Knight (committee member), Strimple, Nick L. (committee member)

Creator Email amystuarthunn@gmail.com,hunn@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c3-22464

Unique identifier UC11290094

Identifier usctheses-c3-22464 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-HunnAmyStu-706.pdf

Dmrecord 22464

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Hunn, Amy Stuart

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA