Two papers have come to hand since I last wrote; one containing the memoranda made during the war—precious records, eagerly read & treasured & reread by me.1
How the busy days slip by, one so like another, yet each with its own fresh & pleasant flavor & scent, as like and as different as the leaves on a tree, or the plants in the hedgerows.
Days, they are busy with humble enough occupations, but lit up for me not only with the light
of hope, but with the half hidden joy of one who knows she has found what she sought and
laid such strong hold upon it that she fears nothing, questions nothing,—no life, or
death, nor, in the end, in her own imperfections flaws, shortcomings. For to be
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so conscious of these, and to love and understand you so, are proofs the germs of all are
in her, & perhaps in the warmth & joyous sunshine of your presence would grow fast.
Any how, distance has not baffled her and time will not. A great deal of needlework to be
done at this time of year; for my girls have not time for any at present; it is not a good
contrast or the right thing after longish hours of study—much better household activity
of any sort. If they would but understand this in schools & colleges for girls &
young women! No healthier or more cheerful occupation as a relief from study, could be found
than household work—sweeping, scrubbing, washing, ironing, cooking—in the variety
of it, & equable development of the muscles, I should think equal to the most elaborate
gymnastics.
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I know very well how I have felt, & still feel the want of having been put to these
things when a girl. Then the importance afterwards of doing them easily & well &
without undue fatigue, to all who aim to give practical shape to their ardent belief in
equality & fair play for all! In domestic life under one roof, at all events it is
already feasible to make the disposals without ignominious distinctions,—not all the
rough bodily work never ending, still begining; and the mental culture and abundant leisure
all to the other—but a wholesome interchange and sharing of these. Not least too among
the advantages of taking an active share in these
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duties is the zest, the keen relish it gives to the hours not too easily secured for reading
& music. Besides, I often think that just as the Poem Nature is made up half of rude
rough realities & homely materials & processes, so it is necessary for women to construct
their Poem, Home, on a groundwork of homeliest details & occupations providing for the
bodily wants & comforts of their household, and that without putting their own hands to
this, her Poem will lack the vital fresh growing nature-like quality that alone endures,
and that of this soil will grow, with fitting
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preparation & culture a noble & more vigorous intellectual life in women, fit to embody
itself in wider spheres afterwards—if the call comes.
This month of May that comes to you so laden with great and sorrowful & beautiful &
tender memories, and that is your birth month too, I cannot say that I think of you more than
at any other time, for there is no month nor day that my thoughts do not habitually &
spontaneously turn to you, refer all to you; yet I seem to come closer, because of the Poems
that tell me of what relates to that time; but most of all when I think of your beloved Mother,2
because then I often yearn more than I
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know how to bear to comfort you with love and tender care and silent companionship. May is in
a sense (& a very real one) my birth month too, for in it were your Poems first put into my
hand.—I wish so I were quite sure that you no longer suffer in
your head, and that you can move about without effort3 or
difficulty—perhaps before long
there will be a paper with some paragraph about your health, for though we say to ourselves no
news is good news, it is a very different thing to have the absolute affirmation of good news.
My children are all well and hearty I am thankful to say, & working industriously. Grace4 means to study the best system of Kinder garten teaching—I fancy she is well suited for Kinder garten teaching & that it is very excellent work—
Herby5 is still drawing from the antique in the British Museum. I hope he will get into the Academy this summer. He is going to spend his holidays with his brother6 in South Wales—and we as usual at Colne,7 but that will not be till August.
Did I tell you William Rossetti and his bride8 were spending their
honeymoon at Naples? & have found it bitterly
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cold there I hear—Mr. & Mrs. Conway9 & their children are well.
Eustace10 is coming to spend the afternoon with Herby tomorrow.
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).