Hours Continuing Long

“Hours Continuing Long” is a poem in free verse by Walt Whitman, one of America’s greatest poets. Often considered a work of transcendentalist literature, the poem was published in the third edition of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass in 1860, appearing in the section titled “Calamus.” However, the poem did not appear in any subsequent edition of Leaves of Grass. It is therefore not as well known as many other Whitman poems from “Calamus.” In omitting the poem, Whitman might have believed that it was too personal in the intense way it laments a lost love and thus did not fit with the notion of the masculine, uplifting love of comrades that was the main purpose of the “Calamus” poems. However, “Hours Continuing Long,” with its use of the long poetic line, multiple repetitions, and questions, is typical of Whitman’s style, and his theme of affection between men is also a strong characteristic of his work.

Poet Biography

Walt Whitman was born on May 31, 1819, in West Hills, a village near Huntingdon, on Long Island, New York. He was the second of nine children born to Walter Whitman, a farmer and carpenter, and Louisa Van Velsor Whitman. When Whitman was three years old, the family moved to Brooklyn, where Whitman attended school until the age of 11. He then worked as an office boy in a legal firm. Although his formal education had ended, Whitman read widely in the local library, attended plays and lectures, and visited museums.

In 1831, Whitman became an apprentice printer on the Long Island Patriot, a regional newspaper in Brooklyn. In 1833, he worked for the Long-Island Star newspaper and by the mid-1830s was a journeyman printer and compositor at printing shops in and around New York City. In 1836, he returned to Long Island, where he taught in various country schools for several years. During this time, he also started his own newspaper, the Long-Islander, but the venture was short-lived.

During the 1840s, Whitman had various editorial jobs for newspapers, and he also began writing fiction. His short stories were published in newspapers and magazines, and he also wrote Franklin Evans; or The Inebriate: A Tale of the Times, a temperance novel, in 1842. In 1848, he made a three-month trip to New Orleans.

Whitman’s impact on American literature began with the first edition of Leaves of Grass in 1855. It contained 12 poems, and Whitman financed the publication himself. He sent a copy to Ralph Waldo Emerson, who replied with enthusiasm, calling the book “the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that America has yet contributed.” Whitman published a second edition in 1856, with 20 new poems. The untitled “Hours Continuing Long” was included in the third edition of Leaves of Grass, published in 1860. Whitman continued to expand Leaves of Grass all his life, publishing the ninth edition in 1891.

The Civil War proved to be of importance in Whitman’s life. He was an admirer of President Abraham Lincoln and a staunch supporter of the Union cause. During the war, Whitman worked in Washington, DC as a clerk for the government, and he regularly visited hospitals, comforting the wounded soldiers. In 1865, Whitman published Drum-Taps (later incorporated into Leaves of Grass), which contained many poems about the war.

Whitman’s health was permanently damaged by the diseases he exposed himself to in the hospitals. He suffered a stroke in 1873 that left him partially paralyzed. He moved to Camden, New Jersey, where he lived the remainder of his life. In 1882, he published Specimen Days, a collection of short prose pieces in which he reflected on the important events of his life. He recalls his childhood and youth, although much of the work centers on the Civil War years and the 1870s, when he spent time at Timber Creek in Camden, convalescing after his stroke.

Suffering from many illnesses, Whitman died on March 26, 1892, in New Jersey, at the age of 72.

Poem Text

Hours continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted, 

Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and unfrequented 

spot, seating myself, leaning my face in my hands; 

Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, speeding swiftly 

the country roads, or through the city streets, or pacing miles 

and miles, stifling plaintive cries; 

Hours discouraged, distracted—for the one I cannot content myself 

without, soon I saw him content himself without me; 

Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are passing, but I 

believe I am never to forget!) 

Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed—but it is useless—I am 

what I am;) 

Hours of my torment—I wonder if other men ever have the like, out of 

the like feelings? 

Is there even one other like me—distracted—his friend, his lover, 

lost to him? 

Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morning, dejected, 

thinking who is lost to him? and at night, awaking, think who 

is lost? 

Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? harbor his 

anguish and passion?  

Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name, bring the 

fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest? 

Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he see the 

face of his hours reflected?

Whitman, Walt. “Hours Continuing Long.” 1860. PoemHunter.com.

Summary

The poem, which is likely autobiographical, is about the emotional suffering Whitman endured after a close relationship with another man ended. Whitman emphasizes the hours that pass slowly, with no relief from his loss, sorrow, and loneliness. Lines 2 and 3 emphasize the passage of time during the day; when evening comes, he sits in an isolated place with his head in his hands. He cannot sleep at night and walks in both country and city, still very upset. He has not yet disclosed the cause of his suffering, which is explained in Line 4: He misses his friend, but he thinks the man is quite happy without him. In Line 5, he returns to the passage of the hours and believes that his friend has forgotten him, but Whitman cannot forget. In Line 6, he reproaches himself for being so upset but immediately tells himself not to make negative judgments. In Lines 7 and 8, his thoughts seem to turn away from himself: He wonders if other men have ever felt as he does now, having lost a friend. In Line 9, Whitman’s thoughts turn directly to the friend. He asks himself if his friend is also upset and thinking about him. In Lines 10 to 12, he continues this line of thinking, expressing himself in the form of questions: Is his friend also grieving and ruminating upon the lost friendship? Does he imagine the anguish of his friend and see the reflection of his own misery?