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Ferry, I dashed off the enclosed Sonnet, which I take the liberty of send to you, the rather to gratify my

poems & prose pieces bit by bit, stealhily stealthily to-day, having the book (disguised by cover) in my

I wont weary you by saying more than to express my heartfelt sympathy & thankfulness & good wishes .

March 7: '88 I was really astonished to hear my quondam college mate—young Henry Norman —was the one

I was in the first flush of my enthusiasm for you; had just read you for the first time, & after a while

matter increases my esteem.

Charity, charity, man, I keep saying (& think of my own grievous sins).

I send you a Transcript marked, and also send you my love in unlimited quantities.

(my book). Glad to hear of yr your new books. Am still reading proof.

WS Kennedy I don't see much prospect of my work on you seeing the light soon, But—.

They have made my summer glorious. My love of that man is something strong as fate.

Indeed I believe the ties of blood draw me to him & Scotland—my "forbears" being Scotch-Irish (on one

might insure the publication of the book; for purchasers of L. of G. are of all most likely to buy my

My dear father-confessor, I feel a strong desire to be clasped closer to yr your breast, to know my friend

—Well, there, my eye lights on my memorandum of it.

I have not time to copy out my translation. affec. as always W.S.

I offer my congratulations in advance.

that item about my reading proofs) before I give him the MS.

Belmont My Dear Walter (as poor Emerson wd would say) I some weeks ago devised a cunning scheme for getting

I took up the idea & having my time at my disposal, I am going to work you up a lecture.

Do you think you will be able to come by that time, my dear friend?

I have never heard you either read or lecture & shall be a thousand times repaid for my trouble. aff—

"Last of Ebb" is my favorite. William Sloane Kennedy to Walt Whitman, 28 August 1888

That wonderful title page I look at & look at, & can't seem to get dovetailed into my mind.

My day had a sad ending.

Please give my very special congratulations to Traubel anent this big volume (for I suppose he helped

And give my regards to your Canadian nurse-friend.

Eve (I free from the gnarring of the finite at my heels).

Belmont Mass Oct 20 '88 My dear W.W.

Mrs K. is in Boston at a Symphony Concert and a precious ½ hour for my soul being at my disposal I feel

We are rolling out 90–100 books at once, & every page must pass under my eye twice & receive my fecit

before it goes out,—my guarantee.

I must stop & copy a page or so (my daily stint) of my Whitman bibliography (sawdusty job rather, but

Wilson of Glasgow, encouraging me to go on & get subscribers for my "Walt Whitman,"— saying that I may

you be willing (I hardly dare to ask it) to send me for two yr book of addresses (sent by Express at my

(I keep up my bibliogr. record always (in the "Whitman")] I made a trip to the art museum recently to

Baxter has gone to Arizona, & left bust in my care.

Kennedy My idea is to charge $5. or a guinea for the vol. & print it in good style.

I send you the Transcript with my notice of November Boughs —hastily pencil-scrawled bet between jobs

on my proof desk.

I asked Traubel to tell you that Wilson (Glaswegian) had written me my book. cordially yrs yours W.S.Kennedy

As I sit here looking up Brattle Square Cambridge from my proof-room window, the gay elastic children

By coming on I could bring my MS with me, & stay three days at least.

I have already made out a long one—going over all my scraps & records for the purpose Our brilliant young

Will send you my Herald article on him when it appears.

This will excuse my dilatoriness as a correspondent) Rhys & I go up to lunch with Sanborn Friday—Rhys

Nothing delights me more & my limitations are so many.

My answer to it has crossed the letter enclosing yours.

For myself, after some five years work on a book concerning my own especial art, I am now waiting the

arrangements and returned and told him all about it which pleased him very much, he put his arms around my

another room and when it got close to the wall an oven door opened and in went the rod and pan with my

friend vanishing away like a snow flake before my eyes. that thought then as well as now crowded into

These are part of what thoughts were crowding in my brain as I stood watching for one hour till my friend

Cooper vanished away before my eyes. so I felt I must tell you that there is a new Crematory built in

My friend Carpenter —one of your best friends—has sent me a copy of his "Songs of Labour"; containing

I cannot express my feelings in this Commercial language, when writing to people I love, and do not try

Whitman, late in life, said to Horace Traubel: "[I] take my Ruskin with some qualifications."

Whitman: "Because you have, as it were, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my

June 18 188 8 My dear Mr.

Whitman:— I read with sorrow of your severe illness and beg to offer my sympathy.

My eye is now under battery treatment (assault-and-battery treatment, you would think to look at it!)

and just as soon as I can recover my sight a little better, I will plunge into the volume, which now

My eye got open at last, but is still bleary and bad.

My present woe is a festered pen finger, sore as death, and preventing me writing.

It is one of my afflictions, though without pain.—I will try to write soon.

August 31, 1888 My dear Walt: I got your letter of the 6th, a postal card of the 11th, divers newspapers

I have had it on my mind for a month to write, but have had a bad time.

My hope and heart are high for you. If the weather will only let up! Good bye.

Sometime when you are sending you can return me the article for my collection.

I keep up my spirits as well as I can, but find it all pretty depressing.

I had been feeling depressed and sorrowful—perhaps my own bad state had something to do with it; but

anyhow, the brave hand-writing was like Chevy Chace to Sidney, "stirring my heart as with the sound of

He is certainly the winter of my discontent mentioned by Lord Bacon in his play of Richard III.

years Whitman increasingly considered him an antagonist; late in his life, Whitman commented: "Some of my

Didn't my lower stomach shout to my upper stomach with loud halloos!

But that my illness makes me unfit for composition, I would like to review Donnelly's reviewers so far

My talk with him must have sunk in. Goodbye. Nelly sends you her love. So do I.

especially such as this one: I was sitting at breakfast yesterday morning, when the lines came into my

longing to send you a word, but you can't imagine how hard it is for me to rouse myself to write, in my

my wretched lameness prevents me from exerting myself as I want to.

Despite my illness and inanition, I am all agog for the result.

"O for the light of another sun, With my Bazra sword in my hand!"

Heyden's "The Last Words of Al-Hassan" contains the lines "O Allah, for the light of another sun, / With my

My dear Walt: I see in the papers, with agitation and alarm, the reports about your illness, which, however

But I should be in the way, considering my condition.

being quite crushed with the dead heat we have been having, and sick with obstinate bowel trouble and my

My belief in your getting better is invincible, for your stamina is indomitable.

EDITORIAL•DEPARTMENT THE CENTURY•MAGAZINE UNION•SQUARE•NEW•YORK 25 July 1888 My dear Mr Whitman: I hope

Were I near you I should like to have the honor of paying my personal respects to you.

If you would write your name upon my 1855 edition, which I intend to present to a public library, I should

"So here I sit gossiping in the early candle-light of old age—I and my book—casting backward glances

over our travelled road…That I have not gained the acceptance of my own time but have fallen back on

I had my choice when I commenced.

I present my tribute, drop my bit of laurel into the still warm, firm hand of the victorious singer.

These snowy hairs, my feeble arm, my frozen feet, For them thy faith, thy rule, I take and grave it to

Whitman defended himself by reversing his previous commentary and writing "My Tribute to Four Poets"

"I call it my war paralysis," said the poet.

Portions of this manuscript appeared in Some Personal and Old-Age Jottings, first published in Good-Bye My

New York Sunday 11/3/88 My dear Mr.

Whitman: You will remember my calling a few weeks back when I remember that I do so as a friend of Earl

I am as you know Wellesley Sayle an Englishman & am proud to be one of many thousands of my fellow countrymen

I shall most likely call at Phila on my way where I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again.

It has been my effort not to grow querulous in my old age, but to have more faith and gayety of heart

Several of the poems I wrote there if left out of my works would be like losing an eye.

Sometimes I think my Western experiences a force behind my life work.

I think it due to the fact that my work was divided equally among both opposing forces and my poetic

I think I combine that with the spiritualistic inseparately in my books and theories.

the army hospitals, and his noble tribute to Lincoln (not so tender as the really rhythmic verses "My

Captain"), are things for young Americans to study.

Candidly and dispassionately reviewing all my intentions, I feel that they were creditable—and I accept

Or rather, to be quite exact, a desire that had been flitting through my previous life, or hovering on

feeling or ambition to articulate and faithfully express in literary or poetic form and uncompromisingly my

in a few lines, I shall only say the espousing principle of those lines so gives breath of life to my

Difficult as it will be it has become, in my opinion, imperative to achieve a shifted attitude from superior

L C Moulton is coming here this afternoon —I am reading Boswell's Johnson —My Elias Hicks plaster bust

dark wet day—raining hard outside as I sit here by the window—am feeling pretty well—have just had my

unawares—invites to swell dinners (or societies &c) invariably declined—Am idle & monotonous enough in my

weeks & life here—but upon the whole am mighty thankful it is no worse—my buying this shanty & settling

D[avis] to cook for me, might have been bettered by my disposing some other way —but I am satisfied it

noon April 18 '88 All goes as well & monotonously as usual (No news is good news)—I got up late, ate my

to-day —he sends me the enclosed little slip from O'C —the condition is bad, & I feel pretty gloomy ab't my

of this last attack—I only wish I could feel so, or even approximate it—But any how thank God so far my

thoughts & mental power are entirely within my control—I have written a short letter to Critic (by their

request) on the "poet" question (wh' they may print) —My sister—George's wife —has just paid me a good

K. is in Boston at a Symphony Concert and a precious ½ hour for my soul being at my disposal I feel a

strong inner impulse to pour out here in the evening solitude, my heart to you in a genuine heart-letter

O'Connor to Bucke on October 20, 1888 mentioned that "a month ago my right eye closed, and the lid had

Camden Feb: 11 '88 My dear friends WSK & JB I send you Dr Bucke's letter from Florida just rec'd with

if slowly—this is the most nipping winter I have ever had—at present am sitting here by the fire in my

little front room—have had my late breakfast (I rise late these cold days) of chocolate & buckwheat

Sidney Morse is in Chicago—I remain in fair spirits & comfortable—am just going to have my dinner (I

Camden Thursday Evn'g Oct: 4 '88 Still here in my sick room—everything much the same—Book printing &c

My head (physical brain) & spirits good—legs & bodily strength gone .

& my works' future—the backward & contemporary reference.

less evidences of gradual physical deterioration —but spirits good—appetite &c fair—& you know I begin my

70th year now in ab't two months—thank God indeed that things are as well as they are & that I & my

fortunes (literary & otherwise) are—Rainy & dark & raw here all day—I was out yesterday four hours to my

friends the Harneds —was taken & bro't back in my phæton —a lull in my Herald contributions —I send

Camden Wednesday P M Sept: 19 '88 Still here in my sick room.

Camden Friday Evn'g Oct: 19 '88 It is dark & I have had my dinner & am sitting by the fire & gas light—anchor'd

& tied in my old big democratic chair & room, the same as all summer, now in the fall & soon the long

winter & (if I live) probably through all—I have been occupied most of the afternoon writing my autographs—there

are to be 600 for the Edition of my complete writings—it will be ab't 900 pages, & include all —a last

I wait with anxiety—I told you ab't my dear friend John Burroughs being here—he is now back at West Park