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by the indolent waves, I am exposed, cut by bitter and poisoned hail Steeped amid honeyed morphine , my
darkness Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking—preparations to pass to the one we had conquered— The captain
more foolish than the rest of the volume:— "I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable, I sound my
The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness, after the rest, and true as any, on the
I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the run-away sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose-coloured flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
Have you learned the physiology, phrenology, politics, geography, pride, freedom, friendship, of my land
Earth of the limpid grey of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed Earth!
I loafe and invite my Soul, I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.
The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzzed whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine
, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs
The sound of the belched words of my voice, words loosed to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses
Our poet goes on to say (105): I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or
since, after the closest inquiry, "I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones."
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some the spread of my own body."
As for Mine, Mine has the idea of my own, and what's Mine is my own, and my own is all Mine and believes
in your and my name, the Present time. 6.
I lie in the night air in my red shirt—the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie, exhausted
to be found in these prurient pages and how any respectable House could publish the volume is beyond my
They look at me, and my eyes start out of my head; they speak to me, and I yell with de- light delight
; they touch me, and the flesh crawls off my bones.
heaven, it bears me beyond the stars, I tread upon the air, I sail upon the ether, I spread myself my
O my soul! O your soul, which is no better than my soul, and no worse, but just the same!
O my eye! 1247. These things are not in Webster's Dictionary— Unabridged, Pictorial.
death with the dying, and birth with the new-washed new- washed babe, and am not contained between my
hat and my boots.
I know perfectly well my own egotism.
strong in the knees, and of an inquiring and communicative disposi- tion disposition Also instructive in my
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.
their dead songs about dead Europe, and its stupid monks and priests, its chivalry, and its thing a-my-bobs
Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Terrified with myself that I have dared to open my
echoes re- coil recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my
thereof—and no less in myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my
ever united lands—my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made one identity, any more than
my lands are inevitably united, and made one identity, Nativities, climates, the grass of the great
I could not shut my eyes to their wild, rough beauty nor close my soul to the truths they expressed.
I write simply to express my unqualified disgust with the portions I have read.
because, being a woman, and having read the uncharitable and bitter attacks upon the book, I wish to give my
There are few poems which I can read with so intense a thrill of exultation at the greatness of my destiny
My Dear Walt Through the stupidity of Lewis I did not receive the dispatch until late in the afternoon
I went directly to my frame makers, the frame will be done to-morrow, (it is a beauty) and if you wish
It is my wish it should be seen in Boston. Let me know how you propose to introduce it.
I know perfectly well my own egotism. . . .
I will put in my poems, that with you is heroism, upon land and sea. . . .
On my way a moment I pause, Here for you! And here for America!
of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clear- er clearer for my sake!
O truth of things, I am determined to press my way toward you; Sound your voice!
I exclude you; Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my
New York March 21st Your letter in answer to my note came to hand this a.m.
Chelsea Ferry, & enquire for, Charley Hollis, or Ed Morgan mention my name, and introduce yourself as
my friend.— I am obliged to you for your kind offer of sending me a few of the sheets in advance of
I am now back again in my old position at 168 Broadway, behind the desk. —So please address me here.
New York April 30th 18 60 Walt, I was very glad indeed to hear from you in answer to my last, and you
to find your business was progressing so favorably, — In accordance with not only your wishes, but my
—But of course my letter to you was not mailed, and now I have once more to reply to yours.— I am glad
kind and attentive to you, I assure you I did not think much of his bad delivery , but on the contrary my
My excuse for writing to you is, that it is a matter of the utmost importance to a client of mine.
Saturday Press, New York, Mch March 27 18 60 My dear Walt: I am so busy that I hardly have time to breathe
This must explain my not answering yr your letter promptly.
I could if necessary give my note at three mos for the amount and it is a good note since we have never
to whom I am an entire stranger will do anything of the kind: but in suggesting it, I have done only my
Monday May 14, '60 My dear Walt : I spent much time yesterday reading your poems, and am more charmed
I want to do great things for you with the book, and as soon as I get over my immediate troubles will
My dear Walt, The books are duly delivered.
Meanwhile I am up to my eyes—and over my eyes even to blindness—in the slough of a fearful road to that
plainer English I am fighting like a thousand Humans to establish the Saturday Press, and have for my
My brother George will deliver this. He is of the right stamp. In haste Henry Clapp.
But I take back my promise. For if you are not sane what will writing avail?
It is a waste of breath for my friend to tell me I am healthy when my pulse records the circumstance
I do not know what I carry in my arms pressed close to my side and bosom!
I turn my steps to "Zion's Mill" a cemetery.
My womb is clean and pure. It is ready for thy child my love.
how lovingly will I cherish and guard it, our child my love. Thine the pleasure my love.
My motives are pure and holy. Our boy my love! Do you not already love him?
Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Terrified with myself that I have dared to open my
whose echoes recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my
And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me!
Walter it is so strange you hav e not got my letter I sent one last friday Friday morning and should
and have had all you have sent and come very acceptable I had got down to 10 cents you must have got my
told him I had hired so much of the house out he would have to hire his board write Walt if you got my
institutionalizing Jesse because, according to her December 25, 1863 letter, she "could not find it in my
Friend Walter— I design bearly to say How do you do, while you are in Boston, & to express my own pleasure
I know what is your mental fare in Boston from my own past personal experience and without wishing to
intrude myself above my true level I could wish I were, at least, a stander-by.
How shall I rise to life (action), is, now, my all pressing & all urgent question.
Accept my affectionate regards. O. K. Sammis To Walt Whitman. O. K.
I rubbed my eyes a little to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is
I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you
my respects.
Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in
All forces have been steadily employed to complete and delight me: Now I stand on this spot with my Soul
—My wife sends her warm regards to you. She desires much to see you. W.W.T.
My dear little wife wants to write you a letter, and will when the domestic gods are propitious, so that
last yawp, which (the review) you were frank enough to print in your last issue, emboldens me to speak my
Last Winter I got on skates, my first appearance before an icy audience for fifteen years.
U. is the poet of my concern, her suggestion to that effect was a strong point in favor of Mr.
s fondness for poetry doesn't at all interfere with the clearness of my café noir, the lightness of my
with my lordly prerogative.
This poem later appeared as "Calamus No. 40," Leaves of Grass (1860); as "That Shadow My Likeness," Leaves
my Soul!
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his own hands.
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
Have you studied out MY LAND, its idioms and men?
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
in your and my name, the Present time.
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness, Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection, Natural life of me, faithfully
To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous
body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me
and which are my miracles?
friends, but listen to my enemies—as I my- self myself do; I charge you, too, forever, reject those
WHO learns my lesson complete?
Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chained with iron, or my ankles with iron?
O MY children! O mates!
O my body!
, Or that touches my face, or leans against me.)
songs in sex, Offspring of my loins. 13.
voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.
O blossoms of my blood!
face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press
CITY of my walks and joys!
my likeness!
, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my
Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your
O I have been dilatory and dumb, I should have made my way straight to you long ago, I should have blabbed
paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-colored light, From my
my brother or my sister! Keep on!
Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-
it harmed me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself—As if it were not indispensable to my
AS I sit with others, at a great feast, suddenly, while the music is playing, To my mind, (whence it
if that were not the resumé; Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were not less complete than my
poems; As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be as lasting as my poems; As if here
36 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my
alarmed, uncertain, This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my
home in Kanuck woods, Or wandering and hunting, my drink water, my diet meat, Or withdrawn to muse and
In the Year 80 of The States, My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air, Born
Take my leaves, America!
My comrade!
steamers steaming through my poems!
, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs
my bare-stript heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.
my Soul!
We closed with him—the yards entangled—the cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his own hands.
I laughed content when I heard the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cried
O longings for my dear home! O soft and sunny airs! O pensive!
O my Soul! O lips becoming tremulous, powerless! O centuries, centuries yet ahead!
myself make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, I reject none, accept all, reproduce all in my
Have you studied out MY LAND, its idioms and men?
What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?
Will it absorb into me as I absorb food, air, nobility, meanness—to appear again in my strength, gait
own Soul or defiled my body, I have claimed nothing to myself which I have not carefully claimed for
untrodden and mouldy—I see no longer any axe upon it, I see the mighty and friendly emblem of the power of my
I do not vaunt my love for you, I have what I have. The axe leaps!
response, Take what I have then, (saying fain,) take the pay you approached for, Take the white tears of my