It did me much good to get your Poem—beautiful earnest eloquent words from the soul whose dear companionship mine seeks with persistent longing, wrestling with distance & time. It seems to me, too, from your having spoken the Poem loc_cb.00268.jpg yourself I may conclude you have made fair progress. What I would fain know is whether you have recovered the use of the left side1 so far as to get about pretty freely, and to have as much open air life as you need & like; and also whether you have quite ceased to suffer distressing sensations in the head. If you can say yes to the first question, will you in sign of it put a dash under the word London, & if yes to the second under England when you next send me a paper? loc_cb.00269.jpg Unless indeed the paper itself contain a notice of your health. But if it does not that would be an easy way of gladdening me with good news, if good news there is. I wish I could send you good letters, dearest Friend, making myself the vehicle of what is stirring around me in life & thought that would interest you; for there is plenty—But that is very hard to do—though I watch, hear, read eagerly full of interest—Everything loc_cb.00266.jpg stirs in me a cloud of questions, makes me want to see its relationship to what I hold already. I am for ever brooding pondering, sifting, testing—but that is not the bent of mind that enables one to reproduce ones impressions in comport & lively form. So please dear Friend, be indulgent, as indeed I know you will be, of these poor letters of mine with their details of my children & their iterated & reiterated expressions of the love and hope and aspiration loc_cb.00272.jpg you have called into life within me—take them not for what they are but for all they have to stand for—Beatrice2 is at Colne (having got well through the exam: we were anxious about in the autumn) and is a very great comfort to my Mother—as I well knew she would be; for a more affectionate, devoted, care-taking nature does not breathe—with a strong active mental life of her own too. So, though missing her sorely, I am loc_cb.00274.jpg well satisfied she should be there; & the country life & rest are doing her a world of good. My artist boy3 is working away cheerily at the R. Academy, his heart in his work. Percy4 is coming to spend Xmas with us—he, too, continues well content with his work and in good health. Gracie5 is blooming.
The Rossettis6 have had a heavy affliction this first year of their married life in the premature death of her only brother7—a young man of considerable loc_cb.00275.jpg promise—barely 20.
The Conways8 are well. I feel more completely myself than I have done since my illness.—so you see dear friend if it has taken me quite four years to recover the lost ground one must not be discouraged if two does not accomplish it in your case.—I hope your little nieces9 at St. Louis are well—and the brothers you are with, and that you have loc_cb.00271.jpg many dear friends round you at Camden.
I think my thoughts fly to you on strongest and most joyous wings when I am out walking in the clear cold elastic air I enjoy so much.
Good bye my dearest Friend. Annie Gilchrist.A cheerful Christmas, a New Year of which each days brings its share of restorative influence be yours.
Correspondent:
Anne Burrows Gilchrist
(1828–1885) was the author of one of the first significant pieces of
criticism on Leaves of Grass, titled "A Woman's Estimate
of Walt Whitman (From Late Letters by an English Lady to W. M. Rossetti)," The Radical 7 (May 1870), 345–59. Gilchrist's long
correspondence with Whitman indicates that she had fallen in love with the poet
after reading his work; when the pair met in 1876 when she moved to
Philadelphia, Whitman never fully returned her affection, although their
friendship deepened after that meeting. For more information on their
relationship, see Marion Walker Alcaro, "Gilchrist, Anne Burrows (1828–1885)," Walt
Whitman: An Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D. Kummings (New
York: Garland Publishing, 1998).