Section 16 Summary

Lines 185-187

Passing the visions, passing the night,
Passing, unloosing the hold of my comrades' hands,
Passing the song of the hermit bird and the tallying song of my soul,

• By the time we reach the final section, we really feel the speaker's "passing" through all of his different visions (the anaphora heightens that effect). Everything, at this point, seems to be whirling past us in one fluid motion as we near the end of the poem. Perhaps we're considering the various landscapes we've seen so far in conjunction with all the reminders of war.
• Nevertheless, we as readers have indeed been passing through it all with the speaker. Notice that in line 187 the speaker releases the hands of his comrades. Why?
• Perhaps at this point, again since we're also nearing the end of the poem, the speaker no longer needs the assistance of his other-worldly comrades. He understands death a bit more and he's found his song to sing for Lincoln and those who suffer alongside him. 
• The speaker is even "passing the song of the hermit bird" and he's able to "pass" his own song of his soul in a more objective way. We don't feel him immediately engaged in the song and elegy any longer. It's as if his job is nearly complete and he's free to admire what he's created and measure ("tally") the results. 
• So we sense a conclusion coming not. The speaker's allowing these songs to exist on their own now, in the same way he's freeing his comrades' hands.

Line 188-190

Victorious song, death's outlet song, yet varying ever-altering song,
As low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night,
Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and yet again bursting with joy,

• And by the end we know "death's outlet song" is also a "victorious song" despite its "ever-altering" moods. So the speaker is kind of summing it all up for us here, knowing full well that we've covered the map both physically (landscapes) and emotionally.
• Perhaps the song is "victorious" because it's managed to capture everything in such a carefully and beautifully constructed way. Although it's "ever-altering" we've always sensed a feeling of unity and fluidity between each section of the poem. The song is also always affirming the joy of existence in some way or another, and so by that token can be seen as "victorious" in the face of death.
• Line 190 sums up the sound of the poem we just heard in its moments of "wailing" with the mourners and those "clear" enlightened notes we heard from the hermit bird and the speaker. Check out "Sound Check" for more.
• And yet line 191 also tells us that there's a sort of "warning" to our song-poem as well. We can presume that this warning relates to the cost of war and the toll it takes on those left behind who suffer. 
• But, in true Whitman fashion, we're reminded of the beautiful moments we've seen that "burst with joy." We've learned to imagine death as a beautiful and praiseworthy thing that mustn't be feared.

Lines 191-194

Covering the earth and filling the spread of the heaven,
As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses,
Passing, I leave thee lilac with heart-shaped leaves,
I leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring.

• The song is also victorious because of its seemingly limitless reach that "covers the earth" and "heaven." Anyone and everyone can relate to this poem.
• Notice that line 193 has a bit of a religious connotation in that "powerful psalm," which is something we haven't really seen in the poem. Though the poem is all about death, the speaker has been careful to steer clear of all of the religious stuff. He took a more spiritual-metaphysical route, which also helped to maintain the sense of unity, encompassing everything, that we've felt throughout the poem. 
• Nonetheless, that "psalm" is the closest thing we've seen as a reference to God and religion, at least so far. And it's fitting that the speaker would go with a song reference ("psalm"), rather than a liturgical one (like a sermon), since his main focus has been to express and sing the human soul.
• By line 194 we feel the speaker "passing" the very heart and soul of the poem: the lilacs. So by now we definitely feel things winding down and coming full circle to where the poem began.
• But we're reminded of those lilacs in the dooryard "returning with spring." Although we're leaving them for now, we know they will be back along with their reminders of life's rejuvenation, perseverance, and for the speaker, Lincoln's death.

Lines 195-197

I cease from my song for thee,
From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee,
O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night. 

• Now, we know things are really coming to an end since the speaker says that he is ceasing from his song for the lilacs. He's also ceasing his song for the western star and the "lustrous" comrade the star symbolizes. 
• So the speaker is again bringing all major symbols back to have one final cameo before the poem is sent off into the world for everyone else.
• The image of that "silver face in the night" also reminds us of the poem's driving force: Lincoln. Although the speaker never explicitly stated the name of the "one he loves," we've certainly felt Lincoln's presence throughout in the landscape of his torn country that appeared equally beautiful as it did mournful. (Geography Note: Whitman would have faced west from New York to look toward Lincoln's burial place in Illinois.) 
• So that floating "silver face" strikes us as somewhat comforting in a weird way (as comforting as a silver place can be, anyway), as if Lincoln has been there looking on throughout the poem and song that was primarily meant for him. Aww.

Lines 198-200

Yet each to keep and all, retrievements out of the night,
The song, the wondrous chant of the gray-brown bird,
And the tallying chant, the echo arous'd in my soul, 

• The speaker also reminds us here that the poem and song is for "each to keep" along with all those "retrievements [things to keep] of the night" we know pretty well by now (like, the hermit bird and his song).
• Also, everyone gets to keep the songs—both the bird's and his own song-poem ("the tallying chant"). But wait—the prizes don't stop there. The speaker's soul has been aroused through his reflection, and so he also passes on that "echo" of inspiration to everyone (you included). 
• Again, we sense a sort of transformation that's occurred for the speaker because of this song. He has come to understand his loss and death in general in a far more enlightening way that isn't filled with woe and fear. 
• And in light of his transformation, we too have felt the effects of that "chant" that have illuminated death for us in a less severe sort of way. So the speaker's transformation has kind of changed us too. Really, it's his gift to all of us. (Man—and we didn't even get him a card.)

Lines 201-203

With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance full of woe,
With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of the bird,
Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep, for the dead I loved
so well, 

• Again, all things are coming together here. That "drooping star" we saw in the very beginning is back to end the poem, along with all of the speaker's comrades (including us, of course). 
• It's important to remember that among these comrades are the speaker's thought of death (his fear of it) and his knowledge of death (his sense of being at peace with it). Remember those guys? Well, he never really picks a favorite. He recognizes that they're both still with him, and he seems cool with that.
• We're all holding hands with the speaker at this point, remembering the dead and "nearing the call of the bird." So, we get the feeling that we've all come to a better understanding of death at this point, since we feel rather close to the bird's song that's coming from those "secluded recesses."
• And in this dreamlike, unified space where the speaker is "in the midst" of his memory of the dead, we feel as if it's okay to let go since their memory is "ever to keep." They won't be forgotten, and neither will Lincoln.

Lines 204-206

For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands—and this for his dear sake,
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.

• By the very end, we're reminded of that "sweetest, wisest soul" of the speaker's time. He's making it clear that this elegy was indeed "for his dear sake." 
• And once more, the speaker blends that "trinity" together for us with the lilac, star, and bird all "twined" with the chant of his soul (this poem). We know what each symbolizes by now and we sense just how important they are to this elegy in terms of death, life's perseverance, and Lincoln's leadership.
• So, it's fitting that, by line 207, all three symbols are hanging out together in the "fragrant pines and cedars dusk and dim."
• Everyone is getting along in their understanding of how death works and how song helps to lift one's spirits out of the darkness. 
• And of course, all of the unity furthers the poem's motif of a unified country and people working together in the vast landscape of life and death. 
• So by the end, we don't feel the impending sense of doom that usually comes with poems about death. We feel uplifted, consoled, and somewhat more accepting of the way death works in life. We understand how all of the pieces fit together with the trinity we see here, and we know that despite death's mystery, we don't have to fear it so much. She's our "dark mother" who will invariably come to us at some point with "soft feet." And if snuggling up to that lovely, deadly lady is not the nicest metaphor for death you've ever seen, then friends, we don't know what is.