Search Results

Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?

the air I breathed froze me; A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me; Must I change my

said I to my- self myself ; Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baf- fled baffled ?

indifferent , but trembling with age and your unheal'd wounds, you mounted the scaffold;) —I would sing in my

know not why, but I loved you…(and so go forth little song, Far over sea speed like an arrow, carrying my

love, and drop these lines at his feet;) —Nor forget I to sing of the wonder, the ship as she swam up my

bay, Well-shaped and stately the Great Eastern swam up my bay, she was 600 feet long, Her, moving swiftly

It is I, you women—I make my way, I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable—but I love you, I do not hurt

babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn, I shall demand perfect men and women out of my

WITH ANTECEDENTS. 1 WITH antecedents; With my fathers and mothers, and the accumulations of past ages

to-day and America could no-how be better than they are. 3 In the name of These States, and in your and my

name, the Past, And in the name of These States, and in your and my name, the Present time.

My own sympathy (far unlike that of most Englishmen) was very strongly with the Commune—i.e. with extreme

—I don't well know when my American Selection will be out: my work on it is done, & the rest depends

I sent on the copy of your works transmitted for "The Lady," after some little delay occasioned by my

seems very considerably impressed with the objects & matter of interest in London: I wish it might be my

previously published in Leaves of Grass, "Passage to India" was Whitman's attempt to "celebrate in my

…My brain is too sensitive.

Who is he that would become my follower? Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?

don'd abandon'd ; Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further—Let go your hand from my

those know me best who admire me, and vaunt- ingly vauntingly praise me, Nor will the candidates for my

love, (unless at most a very few,) prove victorious, Nor will my poems do good only—they will do just

And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?

(As if any man really knew aught of my life; Why, even I myself, I often think, know little or noth-

ing nothing of my real life; Only a few hints—a few diffused, faint clues and indi- rections indirections

, I seek, for my own use, to trace out here.)

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still

it was not a happy night for me that fol- low'd follow'd ; And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans

ing undressing , bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise, And when I thought how my

all that day my food nourish'd me more—and the beautiful day pass'd well, And the next came with equal

joy—and with the next, at evening, came my friend; And that night, while all was still, I heard the

What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand? WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND?

WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life. WEAVE IN, WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE. WEAVE in!

weave in, my hardy life!

Rossetti: Dear Sir & friend; Please accept these copies of my latest edition.

address is still there—(& always, always glad to hear from you, my friend.)

My " Leaves of Grass " I consider substantially finished, as in the copies I send you.

To " Democratic Vistas " it is my plan to add much, if I live.

Indeed, my friend, I wish to hear from you oftener.

have been, & are, having a cold easterly rain storm here—I enclose, on loan, the last two photos of my

October 10, 1871, Louisa Van Velsor Whitman wrote to Walt Whitman: "george and loo and Jeff insists on my

attack of illness, somewhat severe, the last few days—& I have been sort of nurse & doctor—(as none of my

character of democratic art & poetic literature, as discriminated from aristocratic—quotes freely from all my

Church, My friends, If convenient, please remit to me, here, a check for $25 in pay for "O Star of France

Clausen) your letter of 19th October, from Kopenhagen—& I cheerfully forward you my poems "Leaves of

I also enclose several articles & criticisms written about my books in England & America within the last

Please accept my best, brotherly good will.

Clausen, termed in Schmidt's letter "my old friend and countryman," corresponded with Schmidt after he

Department of Justice Washington sent Sept. 17, 18 71 I send herewith the copy of my American Institute

I think an ordinary 12 mo would be best, and send you a sample, my idea of size of page, and sort of

My percentage &c. I leave to you to fix—I should expect two or three dozen copies.

see that you too are jogging along about the same, on your car, with an occasional let up—Often in my

Pete, I am sitting in my room home, finishing this—have just had a bath, & dressed myself to go over

Foul Play" —if not, I have one here I will send you— Dear son, I believe that is all this time—I send my

love, dear son, & a good loving kiss—I think of you every day—Give my best regards to all enquiring

friends, & inform them I expect to be back in about three weeks— Good bye, my darling boy—from your comrade

skeleton, faculties good, but voice only a low whisper—I returned last night, after midnight —Well bub, my

time here is short—I have had a good quiet visit—the best in some respects yet—& I feel satisfied —My

first rate— I spent yesterday down on the sea-shore—was all by myself—had a splendid good day—took my

first part of next week if nothing happens— Well, Pete, I believe that is all this morning—Good bye, my

Brooklyn, Friday, July 14. 1867 or '8 Dear Pete, It is pretty much the same with me, as when I wrote my

former letters—still home here with my mother, not busy at any thing particular but taking a good deal

letters that every thing goes on right with you on the road—give my best regards to my friends among

the drivers & conductors—Dear son, I shall now soon be coming back, & we will be together again, as my

Love to you, my dearest boy, & good bye for this time Walt.

now—I should like first rate to just drop in on you all— I continue to get letters &c from abroad about my

He is preparing a review & partial translation of my writings— Mama dear, I hope you will have a pleasant

clever people, & have invited me to Newport next summer— I am writing this in the office, (alone in my

& Lou are with you—(I hope you will all take a glass of the Spanish wine)— I believe I told you in my

Mother, I will send the order in my next—The bells are all ringing for 7 oclock church—there is a chime

Vinnie Ream, My dear friend, I would like to call on you, with an acquaintance of mine, John Swinton,

I could convey no idea to you of how it affects my soul.

I got it, looked into it with wonder, and felt that here was something that touched on depths of my humanity

Sept. 14, 18 71 My dear John Swinton: I have rec'd your note & enclosures.

I got it, looked into it with wonder, and felt that here was something that touched on depths of my humanity

evening March 8 Dear son, I thought I would write you just a short letter, if no more, as you are in my

I sometimes come to the office nights, to read, it is so quiet—and now I am sitting here at my desk,

So I thought of my dear boy, and will send a few words, though nothing particular to say.

Johnny, I send you my love, & good night for this time—the mail closes at 8, & it is some after 7 now

Johnny, you say you should like to see me—Well, no more than I should to see you, my darling boy.

Walt Whitman at this point deleted "Jack" and "my darling."

The first reading was "my loving boy."

Walt Whitman excised "Johnny" and "my dear son."

My dear Ramsdell , Perhaps it may hardly be necessary, but I feel to write you a line of caution about

You might do well to put in about my intended appearance before the American Institute, at its 40th opening

, Sept. 7th in New York, and that the curiosity of both my friends & foes is extremely piqued, &c &c.

writing at a venture to propose to you the publication, in a moderate-priced volume, of a full edition of my

poems, Leaves of Grass, in England under my sanction.

I make this proposition not only to get my poems before the British public, but more because I am annoyed

at the horrible dismemberment of my book there already & possibility of something worse.

Should my proposal suit you, go right on with the book.

Understand that, like the new year's Bible, the Photo is a gift, with my best love, to you & William—to

My sister Martha at St. Louis was not in good health at last accounts.

will tell you further—Beulah asked much about you & William, and Jeannie— Nothing special with me or my

As it turns out, my death by railroad smash permeated the lower orders, (I suppose at second & third

My true love to you both—Jeannie, my darling, a kiss for you—good bye, Nelly dear— Walt The following

My Dear Mr.

…My brain is too sensitive.

My Dear Madam and Friend: I was expecting to visit New York early this month, and intended to call and

acknowledge the receipt of the poem and to say that when I come on, I shall personally call and pay my

For some days past my mother has been ill—some of the time very ill—and I have been nurse & doctor too

, as none of my sisters are home at present—But to-day she seems over it, if the favorable symptoms continue

they are now hanging up in mother's front room—& are the delight & ever-increasing gratification of my

I too wish to be with you once more—though it will be but so briefly — Much love to you, my dear friend

more daily work than ever has fallen upon me to do the current season, & though I am well & contented, my

I too send you my love. And do you feel no disappointment because I now write but briefly.

My book is my best letter, my response, my truest explanation of all.

In it I have put my body & spirit. You understand this better & fuller & clearer than any one else.

…I am yet young enough to bear thee children, my darling, if God should so bless me.

And would yield my life for this cause with serene joy if it were so appointed, if that were the price

Botta: My dear Madam: I sent you by mail about three weeks ago, (in compliance with your request of April

13,) the MS. of one of my poems, "O Star of France"—also a photographic portrait.

Botta, My dear Madam, In answer to your request of some days since, I send you the MS. of a small piece

My dear sir, You can get any or all my Books at J. S. Redfield, 140 Fulton street, upstairs, N. Y.

firm was in bankruptcy, Redfield noted that the balance due Whitman ($63.45) "will have to go in with my

I think my estate will pay 50 cents on the dollar: hope so at any rate."

The last edition of my poems complete I publish & sell myself.

kind of feeling, I am thankful they are so few—for you know I am getting to be an old fellow—though my

temperament for buoyancy & fun I believe increases instead of diminishes—I shall take my vacation considerably

and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted my shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my

My ties and ballasts leave me—I travel—I sail—my elbows rest in the sea-gaps; I skirt the sierras—my

We closed with him—the yards entangled—the can- non cannon touch'd; My captain lash'd fast with his own

Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries

Only three guns are in use; One is directed by the captain himself against the ene- my's enemy's main-mast

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day

battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my

long-drawn sigh—Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my

chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade—Not a tear

, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death—vigil for you, my son and my soldier, As onward silently

that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any more than this shall be the end of my

Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the wo- man woman can come the poems of man—(only thence have my

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was conceal'd— press forth, red drops—confession

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 blabb'd

paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-color'd light; From my

With yet unknown results to come, for thrice a thou- sand thousand years,) These recitatives for thee—my