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12 Well Road Jan January 29, '82 1882 My Dearest Friend: Your letter to Herby was a real talk with you

As I write this I am sitting to Herby for my portrait again—he has never satisfied himself yet: but this

that what with memory & photograph & the studies he made when with you, he will be able to put you & my

MY DEAREST FRIEND: Herby went to David Bognes David Bogue about a week ago: he himself was out, but H

His father was the publisher of my husband's first literary venture & behaved honourably.

Also my own longing is always for a chronological arrangement, if change at all there is to be; for that

Without these faculties at ready command my dear Gabriel would not have been himself."

Whitman with my love, or if you prefer to keep both, I will send her others.

The second copy of book & my lending one, has come safe—too—and the card that told of your attack of

illness, & the welcome news of your recovery in the Paper; & I have been fretting with impatience at my

own dumbness—but tied to as many hours a day writing as I could possibly manage, at my little book now

(last night)—finished, all but proofs, so that I can take my pleasure in "Specimen Days" at last; but

My love to brother & sister & to Hattie [&] Jessie. Good-bye, dear Walt.

./82 Dearest friend, I like with all my heart (& head too) "A memorandum at a venture".

I have never for a moment wavered in my belief in this truth since it burst upon me a veritable sunrise

He has gone just now to my favorite Haslemere, in quest of nightingales—& I hope will make the acquaintance

Wilde came to see me early this afternoon," said Walt, "and I took him up to my den, where we had a jolly

things I said was that I should call him 'Oscar;' 'I like that so much,' he answered, laying his hand on my

the æsthetes, I can only say that you are young and ardent, and the field is wide, and if you want my

My idea is that beauty is a result, not an abstraction."

my Captain!

O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!

my Captain!

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse

But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, The most prejudiced will not deny that that

puto translates from Latin to "I am a human being: I regard nothing of human concern as foreign to my

puto translates from Latin to "I am a human being: I regard nothing of human concern as foreign to my

barefooted every few minutes now and then in some neighboring black ooze, for unctuous mud- baths to my

Sometimes I took up my quarters in the hospital, and slept or watch'd there several nights in succession

excitements and physical deprivations and lamentable sights,) and, of course, the most profound lesson of my

language: "As I have looked over the proof-sheets of the preceding pages, I have once or twice feared that my

here—said: "Only that while I can't answer them at all, I feel more settled than ever to adhere to my

past—that I have always invoked that future, and surrounded myself with it, before or while singing my

O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! O Captain, my Captain!

O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain, my Captain, rise up and hear the bells.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse

Exult O shores, and ring O bells, But I with mournful tread Walk the deck my Captain lies, To analyze

For illustration, he gives utterance to phrases like this: "I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it

He himself says, "Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much harm, perhaps more."

My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches

Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in

I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can

; No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair;— I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no

man to a dinner-table, library, exchange; But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My

. ∗ ∗ ∗ The successive growth-stages of my infancy, childhood, youth and manhood were all pass'd on Long

–49) and I split off with the Radicals, which led to rows with the boss and 'the party,' and I lost my

And then such lapses as these: By my great oak—sturdy, vital, green—give feet thick at the butt.

An hour or so after breakfast I wended my way down to the recesses of the aforesaid dell ∗ ∗ ∗ It was

just the place and time for my Adamic air-bath and flesh-brushing from head to foot.

He explains his inspiration thus: Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It

He explains the limit of his happiness: I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To

touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand .

Whenever he does this he writes lines that will live—notably, his "O Captain, my Captain," inspired by

your book on the market advertised as the suppressed edition, and invite the authorities to dispute my

Morse, Quincy, Mass., the sculptor, whom you know, and who has long been one of my intimate friends.

He does not know of my design in this matter, but he will tell you that I am thoroughly reliable, and

few pieces which are marked by the "piano-tune" quality that he derides—the true and tender lyric of "My

Captain" and the fine poem on "Ethiopia Saluting the Colors."

guarantee that at the business meeting at 8 o'clock you would be elected & at nine you could come in, as my

I want your name to head the list, not merely because of my esteem for you personally, but because of

Grass" will remain a real contribution to the thought of America, and some of the additional pieces, "My

Captain, O My Captain," "Song of the Banner at Daybreak," "Out of the Cradle, Endlessly Rocking," once

nights—some literary meditations—books, authors examined, Carlyle, Poe, Emerson tried (always under my

cedar-tree, in the open air, and never in the library)—mostly the scenes everybody sees, but some of my

to the spring under the willows—musical as soft-clinking glasses—pouring a sizeable stream, thick as my

for the buoyant and healthy alone, but meant just as well for ailing folk:— "Who knows (I have it in my

fancy, my ambition) but the pages now ensuing may carry ray of sun, or smell of grass or corn, or call

write to you lately—or rather I have written so many letters, business affairs mostly, connected with my

friends so closely, that your health & strength becomes part of theirs— I send you the Academy with my

I closed my review with a wish that you might try a voyage across the Atlantic.

In my youthful ardor, I am rejoiced at the interdiction . It will make the revolution the greater.

My Dear Friend: I feel so drawn to send you a Christmas greeting.

Did you receive an invitation to the wedding of my daughter, Blanche, on the 14th of June last?

So often I think of the days of my youth, amid the calm content of Quaker society, so beautiful.

Tears came into my children's eyes. After meeting I asked them why?

I am my friend with kindest regards, Yours truly, Elisa S. Leggett.

To-day my soul is full of the love of the body.

"Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. ∗∗∗∗∗ While they discuss

The first doubt lodged in my mind against the claims of the Christian Church and ministry was the first

To my surprise and horror, they spent the whole time in regaling one another with smutty yarns.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

It shall have a place of honor on my walls at home where you are read and loved.

I should not want to leave to my children the name of a Stevens or a Marston .

His text is—and it is a stalwart text: "I stand in my place, with my own day, here!" II.

"I resist anything better than my own diversity," he says.

Clifford in his essay on "Cosmic Emotion:" "I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled far-

"My sun has his sun, and round him obediently wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior

Hence from my shuddering sight to never more return that Show of blacken'd mutilated corpses!

I sent you yesterday a copy of my paper containing the lecture Keep off the Grass.

The whole edition of my paper is still held at the Post Office awaiting decision from Washington as to

As in my next number I shall have the whole history of this infamous impertinence and audacity in print

I am however loath to intrude my self on public personages— as I know that much of their valuable time

Walt Whitman Your "Leaves of Grass," has just been placed in my hands.

things, say so; if not, let it " werk " as the little boy said, but I warn you that, Sans-Culottism to my

forced to remember another son of the people, Robert Burns, and one involuntarily thinks of his "O, my

Love's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Love's like a melodie That's sweetly

(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was unreturned, Yet out of my love have I written these

hardly patience with a man who could offer the public lines like these, and call them poetry: "I tucked my

trowser-ends into my boots, and went and had a good time."

But a few moments ago in an unknown country paper a paragraph with a "fling" at your poetry attracted my

undefined purpose of assuring you of the love and reverence in which you are held by thousands, I took up my

I have loved you for years with my whole heart and soul.

I am too impetuous; I feel my subject too deeply.

And yet I am a writer and make my living by my pen.

hand your beautiful grey hair, and possibly feel your arm about my waist.

It is nothing to me who sees them; I am proud of my feeling for you.

The bits about the Creek are just delightful to my mind: you have so impregnated your pages with the

Give my love to them at Glendale. Herbert H Gilchrist.

A scotch mist this morning so I could not go on as usual with my out-door painting but the afternoon

Expect to stay in the neighborhood another week, when I shall shift my diggings as my bedroom window

will not open: a small cottage, otherwise to my mind.

Evans said 'you shall not live in my house then' she was greatly distressed but finally agreed to go

I am writing by this post to Eustace Conway, my lawyer friend in New York, a gay young spark, a fine

January 15 th My dear dear Walt Your altogether good letter came to hand yesterdy yesterday morn: old

The chiming of church bells float musically up Haverstock Hill greeting my ears pleasantly as I sit here

nations no longer go to church & church bells cease chiming, but I needn't worry for it wont be in my

explained the good points wch which a violin should possess: as a musician he praises the conception of my

My Dear Sir On the 3d of Dec '81 I wrote you a letter kindly asking if you would not oblige me with your

I enclose my ck. check for the amt. amount you ask for, $100. What a blank there in New England!

We could have a good time here in my bark-covered shanty & in knocking about the country.

For the past two weeks my head has been ground between the upper & nether millstone of bank ledgers &

He did not even ask about your health, or any other human thing, & made me feel that my call upon him

I had resolved, for reasons of my own, not to call upon any of those fellows, & I feel like throttling

Herbert for making me depart from my resolution.

If you have a copy of my "Notes" to spare, send it to O'Connor. I have but one.

My first taste of the country was at Alloway, Burns' birth place.

Walt Whitman Respected Sir: I have just read your 'Memorandum at a Venture' and wish to express to you my

I am a student at the above institution and while studying my text books I have also studied the times

Though a stranger to you, in your Book you have been my friend, and so I salute you.

own heroic measure (or a poor attempt to imitate it) by one of the members of the Melancholy Club, my

25 1882 Dear Walt: I wrote to Osgood and asked him how Leaves of Grass was selling and he rejoices my

Aug 12 188 2 My dear Walt— Nine years ago, I delivered before a German Society of New York City a lecture

Was't charged against my chants they had forgotten art? . . .

son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day, One look I but gave, which your dear eyes return'd with

do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?

Loud I call to you, my love! High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves.

Hither, my love! Here I am! here!

1267 Broadway, New York My Dear Dear Walt— Swinburne has just written to me to say as follows.

As sincerely can I say, what I shall be freshly obliged to you if you will assure him of in my name,

that I have by no manner of means relaxed my admiration of his noblest works—such parts, above all, of

of to do is to have the correspondence just forwarded me by O'Connor printed with some comments of my

Please let me know at once what you think of my plan Your friend R M Bucke Richard Maurice Bucke to Walt

appreciated by me—I am also very much pleased to have the photo, both to tell me how you look now and for my

Now my dear Walt I don't want to hurry you or worry you but now that you have L. & of G. and S.D. both

any less desirable—I hope S.D. will sell and that Rees Welsh & Co. will feel disposed to take hold of my

9 th Nov. 82 My dear Walt I have your card of 6 and we shall count on your coming here early in Dec.

would it not be as well (or necessary) for me to go to Philadelphia to arrange for the publication of my