Whitman’s poem is built upon a subtle idea: the idea that there can be something demystifying and even enervating about too much technical or scientific knowledge. The speaker in the poem clearly recognizes the expertise of the “learn’d astronomer”, and the details he offers about the astronomer’s precise calculations emphasizes that the astronomer’s knowledge has genuine depth. The enthusiasm of the rest of the audience also suggests that the astronomer has managed to be an informative and entertaining speaker. And yet, the speaker’s reaction speaks of the disconnect between what he and the rest of the audience feels and is suggestive of a significant divide between how the speaker experiences nature and how the astronomer (and the audience) does. In setting off into the night by himself, the speaker chooses solitude and individualized communion with nature over the confined, communal mediations of scientific expertise. His silent, awe-struck way of “Look[ing] up” (Line 8) at the night sky implies that the speaker is experiencing a kind of wordless wonder in the face of nature’s beauty. The poem’s ending, with the speaker still out wandering and admiring the stars by himself, implies that there is something special about surrendering to nature’s mysteries instead of seeking to solve them.