Class imagine this…
You’re sitting in a lecture hall. The room is warm, the lights are low, and a brilliant
astronomer is speaking—his voice echoing off the walls explaining the stars, the galaxies,
the universe. Slides flash across the screen: numbers, charts, equations… the whole
universe broken down into math. People around you are nodding, clapping, fascinated.
But you? You feel something else.
You feel tired… bored… even a little lost.
Now imagine
You quietly slip out, step into the cool night air. No numbers. No noise. Just the wide, open
sky above you—filled with stars that seem to whisper secrets of the universe directly to
your soul.
In that moment, you feel the universe. Not through numbers—but through wonder.
Good Morning, everyone.
I’m Rigan Hasan, Class Roll 35, Batch 49, and today I’ll talk about Walt Whitman’s poem
“When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer”—a poem that begins with that exact feeling you
just imagined… and ends with something far more magical.
Let’s read the poem first:
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the
lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
Here Whitman is telling us something very real.
He sat in a lecture where a smart astronomer was explaining the stars with facts and
formulas. But instead of being inspired, he felt bored and drained. Why? Because
sometimes, learning about something is not the same as experiencing it.
So Whitman leaves. He goes outside. Alone. He looks up at the sky—not with calculations,
but with wonder. And that is when he truly connects with the stars.
This poem shows the difference between two ways of learning:
One is through books, numbers, and lectures. That’s knowledge.
The other is through feeling, sensing, and experiencing. That’s wisdom.
Whitman isn’t saying science is bad—he’s just reminding us that sometimes, to really
understand the beauty of something, we have to step away from the classroom and let
ourselves feel it.
So next time you look at the stars—don’t just think about how far they are. Think about how
they make you feel.
Thank you.