Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 55-57
O western orb sailing the heaven,
Now I know what you must have meant as a month since I walk'd,
As I walk'd in silence the transparent shadowy night,
- Ah, there's that "western orb" again (and orb = star, same difference). By the beginning of Section 8 then we have another noticeable mood change. We're getting cosmic and pretty again, what with the orb "sailing the heaven." After all the mourning, it's about time we see something more pleasant, don't you think?
- But remember, an orb isn't just an orb in this poem. At this point, we really see the presence of a guiding light (or leader) that's watching over all the mourning. And since Lincoln was the leader of the time, we see more symbolism here.
- But the orb also seems to have some sort of omniscient knowledge that's unknown to us. The speaker kind of gets it when he says in line 56, "I know what you must have meant," but we're not quite sure about the details.
- What we do sense is that the heavens are responding to all the mourning as well, giving us a nice dose of personification. In line 56, they seem "know" what's going on.
- The speaker walking in silence in line 57 reinforces the sort of unspoken knowledge that both the orb and speaker seem to share. Since the night is "transparent" and "shadowy" at the same time, we sense even more the ambiguity of this knowledge that is nonetheless still felt by the speaker. How can a night be both see-through ("transparent") and dark ("shadowy")? It's a paradox, but then again death is often a puzzle that the mind can't solve.
- That's probably why things are getting less straightforward here. Knowledge, like the kind the speaker references here, is an ambiguous thing when it comes to things like death and national tragedy.
- That's why people have "moments of silence" in times of grieving. We may not be able to express what we know and feel inside, but it's still there to reflect up, to try to work out mentally, just like the speaker did.
Lines 58-60
As I saw you had something to tell as you bent to me night after night,
As you droop'd from the sky low down as if to my side, (while the other stars all look'd
on,)
As we wander'd together the solemn night, (for something I know not what kept me
from sleep,)
- No, there aren't any formatting errors here. These funky lines are just more of our overzealous Whitman trying (and failing) to squish everything into one printed line. So we're counting these lines as three lines, not five.
- In these lengthy lines, we have some more figurative language to add to the imagery of that orb "bending" night after night.
- Remember, in the early evening that western star appears to literally hang on the horizon, so the bending here makes sense.
- But that drooping star also has another layer of symbolism to it. In drooping to the speaker's level, "while the other stars" look on, we get the sense of this prominent orb sharing in the speaker's grief and consolation. It's as if it's by his "side," which tells us that star isn't just an indifferent presence hovering above the speaker.
- In fact they even "wander together" in line 60, which provides some more personification that adds to the empathy the orb appears to be extending to the speaker (the star and the speaker are buddies in a way).
- All in all, the mood here is one of consolation, ambiguity, and empathy expressed not through people here but rather a bigger, more omniscient presence that shares in the mourning of humans. The big takeaway here is that the mourners and the speaker aren't alone in their earthly grieving.
- We have some more anaphora here too, with the repetition of "as" in each line. The function here seems to be one that puts us in the moment with the speaker and the orb. We're right there with both, walking, mourning, and pondering life's mysteries. Deep.
Lines 61-63
As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the west how full you were of woe,
As I stood on the rising ground in the breeze in the cool transparent night,
As I watch'd where you pass'd and was lost in the netherward black of the night,
- Looks like the speaker is really driving the whole personification thing home with line 61 and the idea of the orb filled with woe. By now we're definitely feeling the sense of unity being extended in a universal way, reaching even the heavens.
- The "rising ground" in line 62 is a bit odd, but we're presuming the speaker is referring to the breeze rustling the foliage that's around, making the ground look as if it's rising. Maybe he's even walking over a hill of some sort.
- By line 63 though, we notice that the orb has passed as it rotates out of view. For the speaker, it's figuratively been lost in some kind of "netherworld," or black abyss. So its initial mystery and allure appear just as potent here in its exit.
- Symbolically then, we may consider this orb as representing Lincoln's alluring presence. While alive, his presence shone bright in empathy and leadership and now in his tragic death he appears to have been lost in a kind of abyssal darkness that enveloped the nation. Kleenex time, gang.
Lines 64-65
As my soul in its trouble dissatisfied sank, as where you sad orb,
Concluded, dropt in the night, and was gone.
- By line 64 then we feel the speaker's "troubled soul" even more as he loses the company of the empathetic orb and must do without its presence. Likewise, the speaker will have to accept the passing of his nation's hero and do without him as well.
- So the idea of the speaker feeling "dissatisfied" with his sinking soul in line 64 makes perfect sense on both levels. And yet we're reminded of the "sad orb" that's sharing in the speaker's grief. It's not like the orb wants to leave. Rather, it has no choice (the Earth has to rotate after all, or else we'd all fly off it, and cycles need to continue).
- So by line 65, things are "concluded" which gives us a sense of resolution at this point of the poem. The speaker appears to have submitted to both realities: losing the orb and losing Lincoln.