Literary Legends in The Concrete Jungle

Adult leaders: Nicole & Vincent

Our group focused on literary legends of the late1800’s and early 1900’s, and were primarily American authors. Writers that we have experienced this week were: Walt Whitman, Dylan Thomas,Stephen Crane and Edgar Allan Poe. In addition we also read some work of Langston Hughes in comparison with Walt Whitman, eventhough he wrote during the Harlem Renaissance.

Some other contemporary sources of film/media that we infused within the literary experience was the movie Dead Poets society, Trailers from Gangs of New York and Far and Away, The Simpsons version of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven, and Tim Burton’s The Corpse Bride. Many movie clips centered students within the time period of some literary works, other uses showed students where “Gothic” themes originated and how they are still used today in pop culture today.

Our first stop…. THE TENEMENT MUSEUM

Day 1 Tenement 1.jpg
Visiting the Tenement Museum to discover how the Irish and German in NYC lived at the turn of the century.
Day 2 Walt Whitman Park 1.jpg
Although Walt Whitman’s living quarters by the Brooklyn Bridge no longer exists, this park space is dedicated to this iconic poet.
Day 2 Walt Whitman Park 2.jpg
In the center of the park, the fountain has four inscriptions of Walt Whitman’s writing, primarily from his work written in Leaves of Grass.

Day 2 Walt Whitman Park 3.jpg

Walt Whitman Park plaque.jpg

War Memorial poster.jpg

Near Walt Whitman Park, there is the Brooklyn War Memorial that is dedicated to the men and women who lost their lives in World War II. While this was not our focus, this was a beautiful memorial and we couldn’t help but admire and be inspired by the dedication.

War Memorial.jpg


In discussion students compared the “dreams” of Walt Whitman in an excerpt from “Calamus” in Leaves of Grass to the “dreams” of Langston Hughes in his poem “I Dream of a World.”

Brooklyn Bridge promenade

Having fun and enjoying the grey skies… Louis is saying …. “O Captain, My Captain!”

O Captain! My Captain!


O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.



We settled for throwing back a few chicken fingers, grilled cheeses, burgers, fries and some fish and chips!

Dylan Thomas in the background.


Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas, 1914 – 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Did you know that the Bronx was once considered farmland? Mr. Poe moved his wife to this little cottage in Fordham, Bronx, to get her out of the city air, because she was sick with Tuberculosis. He was a genius writer, but he was so poor it was hard for him to care for his wife. Sadly a year after they moved she died.


Annabel Lee


It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea


Nicole had to take a picture with Poe. He is one of her favorites!!!image2.JPG


Student Inspired Writing:

Chiara II

Victoria II