Whitman’s speaker sits alone, full of yearning and heavy thoughts. He never stirs from his seat, but his mind travels continents, sensing other men in far-off lands—Germany, Italy, France, Spain, or farther still in China, Russia, India—sitting just as he is, thinking the same deep thoughts, though their words are strange to him. He can almost see them. The poem turns on a powerful wish: if only he could know these strangers, he’d become as attached to them as to his own countrymen. The mood is tender and solitary yet suddenly expansive. Loneliness transforms into a longing for global brotherhood. There’s a quiet confidence in the last lines—he just knows they would be happy together, like lovers or brothers, connected across any border by a shared, wordless humanity.
This Moment, Yearning and Thoughtful. — Summary
THIS moment yearning and thoughtful, sitting alone, It seems to me there are other men in other lands, yearning and thoughtful; It seems to me I can look over and behold them, in Germany, Italy, France, Spain—or far, far away, in China, or in Russia or India—talking other dialects; And it seems to me if I could know those men, I should become attached to them, as I do to men in my own lands; O I know we should be brethren and lovers, I know I should be happy with them.