For Whitman, too, the road is a space for gathering the material for poetry. He attests that he, himself, is his own good fortune, and that is all he needs.
Whitman's a bit like that friend you have who thinks that everything is just the bee's knees. Just take a quick peep at "Song of the Open Road.
The poem is told from a first person point of view, and the speaker, perhaps Whitman, knows himself very well. Well… we didn't—Whitman did.
The gist, however, remains the same: Whitman's speaker is off for the open road, to experience the freedom and expansiveness it promises. This is a guy with one eye on the details of life and another on the big—scratch that, huge—picture.
Along the way, he finds lots of people and sees lots of the country—all of which he loves, and all of which he invites us to appreciate in his own particular Whitmanian way. We say more about Whitman's free verse form over in " Form and Meter ," and we say everything worth saying about his content in our " Detailed Summary.
And by "day" we mean the nineteenth-century day. He argues against staying in one place for too long, although the hospitality may be a lure, for only the tests of the open road will do.