Search Results

Herbert was here last evn'g very good visit—Hot weather here—Am pretty ill—one of my worst spells—now

a week—half the time stretch'd out on the bed—half the time in my big chair as now—Love to you all—glad

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to

Please accept my best wishes that the year we have entered upon may bring to you much calm peacefulness

I am, my dear sir, yours very truly and gratefully, Mary Ashley Mary Ashley to Walt Whitman, 7 January

These days I seem to need something: seem to be looking for something—feeling towards it: something my

You dear (young) old F'ellow: — I was just feeling to-day a lack in my soul—a gap—an idea that you had

I continue at my typographical business Hope I hear from Paisley in a fortnight goodnight & love—gloomy

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

30, 1868, Whitman informed Ralph Waldo Emerson that "Proud Music of the Storm" was "put in type for my

Whitman originally included the poem in his 1891 manuscript for the Good-Bye My Fancy annex to Leaves

volumes of Horace Traubel's With Walt Whitman in Camden (various publishers: 1906–1996) and Whitman's "My

thanked Walt Whitman for the copy of Complete Poems & Prose, and expressed his "admiration . . . with all my

love for one I considered, from my first reading of him, as one of the best and the greatest men of

Whitman's poem "My 71st Year" was published in Century Illustrated Magazine in November 1889.

May 30.1889— My Dear Walt— Let me send my hand & heart to you in this pen-scrawl, bearing loving, reverential

Accept then my love, my hopes of other birthdays, my fraternal & gladsome kiss and word on this birthday

However I offer you my congratulations.

Fraternally & Faithfully yours "Dick" (RJ) Hinton My wife joins me fully. Richard J.

And to think my dearest brother you have been out. it It is wonderful good news to me.

I am trying to clean house, Walt dear, I do it all myself, but I take my time I have to.

—my carpets are all taken up down stairs downstairs (done cleaning up stairs upstairs glad to be able

to work even my way) Ime I'm slow enough, but do pretty well glad to stop a little while to write a

will you give my love to them, please.

good oak fire—Am still imprison'd in the sick room—Keep up spirits pretty fair, but weak as ever in my

friends from seeing me)—& for a month or so I was in a horrible plight—a nuisance to myself & all—but my

here in the room—Mrs Davis has just been in & wishes to send her love to you, & says come up & see us—my

is well, & seems to be well off & satisfied—young Harry Bonsall died there three or four weeks ago—my

sisters at Greenport L I and Burlington Vermont are ab't as usual—my brother & sister Lou are well at

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

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to

Ford & William & Ethel & Arthur Thompson —(The letter—somehow one of the best I ever rec'd—goes to my

hour or two to the river shore when I feel like it—have a good strong young Canadian (Ed Wilkins ) for my

helper & nurse—have just had what I call my currying for the mid-day —& am probably getting along better

than you all might suppose—fortunately my right & left arms are left me in good strength & volition,

& advice to be a sort of public & speechifying dinner &c. in compliment to my finishing my 70th year

Bucke is referring to Whitman's poem "My 71st Year," which was first published in the November 1889 issue

My people refused to put up the money without adequate protection."

April 18 Thursday Afternoon 89 I do hope my dearest brother you are feeling a good deal better to day

today I do want you to be. so much. my My greatest comfort is thinking about your being pretty well,

I think of you always my dear brother as I always like to tell you indeed Walt I dont don't think I could

I had not heard you was were sick my dear brother It is right pretty to hear about those wild flowers

.— Walt dear I send love with all my heart.

and brain action (while easily tired and sore at the best) remain, the muscles, especially my right

fair—and the main elementary functions active at least half (or even plus half) to keep off so far my

bound edition of L. of G. including the "Sands at 70" and "Backward Glance," as a sort of commemorating my

Bucke —my dear friend O'Connor at Washington very ill yet—Wm.

Walsh on the Herald , and Julius Chambers World are friendly to me—I am sitting in my big rattan chair

to see them—I wrote to you to write & confer with him (R) —but have no word f'm you—Did you receive my

this time—I have nothing from R. now for a long, long while (with that exception)— I am laid up in my

sick room—essentially the sixth recurrence of my war paralysis—& have been (two or three spells serious

feeble, cannot get across the room without assistance—have a nurse, a good, strong Canadian young man—my

the same as hitherto—have mean time bro't out "November Boughs," 140 pages, & a big Vol. 900 pages, my

My dear Poet, Walt Whitman.

Possibly my answer to Mr.

In case of the latter, I should have been glad had he thought my name worthy of mention as a friend.

Comes to my mind as I think of the hour When our poet and friends will be lovingly drinking The mystical

But, though absent in body, there's nothing can hinder My tasting the joys of that festive birthday;

Had my breakfast & relish'd it—three or four hot stew'd oysters, a stout slice of toasted Graham bread

, & a mug of coffee— My housekeeper Mrs: Davis is compell'd to be temporarily absent these two days &

Ed my nurse gets my breakfast & gets it very well.

often bless the Lord & congratulate myself that things are as well with me as they are—that I retain my

mentality intact—that I have put my literary stuff in final form—that I have a few (but sufficient)

Dear & honoured Friend & Master I thank you from my heart for the gift of your great book—that beautiful

But my heart has not the power to make my brain & hands tell you how much I thank you.

I cannot even attempt to tell yourself (upon this page of paper with this pen in my hand), what it is

If my health, riven to the bottom like a tree in me, twelve years ago,—& the cares of a family, complicated

reliance on you, & my hope that you will not disapprove of my conduct in the last resort.

of fresh air, have since had a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast and am now (630 P.M.) sitting at my

desk in my office at the Asylum.

Sometimes as I read it I feel as if my whole previous life were rolling en masse through me and as if

Tomorrow I give my 7 th lecture to the students—one more will end the course for this year.

We are all well I send you my best love R M Bucke Richard Maurice Bucke to Walt Whitman, 8 December 1889

Camden Monday 9 A M '89 Am sitting here just ended my breakfast, an egg, some Graham bread & coffee—all

wh' I relish'd—rec'd my morning mail, & send you this f'm Dr B —with my scribbling on back—fine sunny

hours down to the Delaware shore, high water)—sky & river never look'd finer—was out also at one p m to my

bottle of champagne—(lunch, or dinner, but I ate nothing)—So you see I am getting around sort o' in my

summer—I want to get out somewhere (sea side or mountains) but it is a fearful job for me to be moved from my

like to read—(T B Aldrich's also tho' short is very friendly & eulogistic—not sent here)— Nothing in my

, I have had a notion for, & now put out partly to occupy myself, & partly to commemorate finishing my

For the regard, the affection, which convoyed your noble argosy to this my haven,—believe me, my dear

Well: there is too much taking off of hats, but I certainly should doff my own to the Sun-God.

Pray give my kind regards to M. Traubel. Walt Whitman to William Sloane Kennedy, William D.

But in any case after you get this letter, my address will be care of my nephew in Boston which I will

I shall make a few short stops with nieces & others till I return home, & as my nephew is a fixture,

But I try to keep up a good heart, & not to worry my friends with my troubles.

I have one hope that I am clinging to, and that is that my sister Mrs. Channing may come on.

I send my address on the enclosed slip. With love always— Nelly O'Connor.

And in my own day and maturity, my eyes have seen and ears heard, Lincoln, Grant and Emerson, and my

I have put my name with pen and ink with my own hand in the present volume.

I felt it all as positively then in my young days as I do now in my old ones: to formulate a poem whose

, and has been the comfort of my life since it was originally commenced.

Then the simile of my friend, John Burroughs, is entirely true.

May 11 / 89 Dear Walt: Yesterday on my way up to Olive to see my wife's father, who is near the end of

for some time, yet it was a stunning blow for all that I know how keenly you must feel it, & you have my

No words come to my pen adequate to express the sense of the loss we have we suffered in the death of

Drop me a line my dear friend if you are able to do so.

This sense forbids my taking up the pen carelessly to intrude upon your attention. I. Mr. H.H.

I came to grasp it; my humility to God, my esteem to you.

to my work as a composer.

Intention must befriend me or my chance must fall.

In the first, I send you a copy of this work, I have perforce of my religious perception, vested the

every week or month a button or peg gives out—most of the time mildly—but I realize it well enough—my

dulling)—warmth shaded a little to-day & cloudy any how—ate a rare egg & some Graham bread & coffee for my

—I hope to resume practice in the state, some time in the future, when I have paid my debts and saved

My mother is still living in Boston at the age of 75, well and hearty.

—God bless you my old and long tried friend—"With fond affection and recollection.

Louis Nov. 10 th My Dear Uncle Walt, I have been thinking about you so much lately, that I am going to

I am still at my old quarters and will remain for this Winter, after that is as yet an unsettled problem

was an admirer of the former, I think even more of him, for the good taste in thinking so much of "my

Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Thursday, September 12, 1889 and Saturday, September 14, 1889: "My

My great regret is that with his magnificent abilities he should have done so comparatively little to

It is postmarked: London | PM | MY 13 | 89 | Canada; Camden, N.J. | May | 15 | 30 PM | 1889 | Rec'd.

Your card of the 24th came two days ago, not a little to my relief.

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

June 9 '89 Lou, I rec'd the aspargus, strawberries &c, by Charley—have had some of the a[sparagus] for my

least either on the right or left side) with a button at top—I am so in the habit of carrying things in my

dull here muchly—I am sitting up in the 2d story room alone—door & windows open—Did you or George get my

Whitman noted that Louisa "bro't my new blue gown" on June 11, 1889 (The Commonplace-Book, Charles E.

10 th 89 O Good Gray Poet, When I read the notes on your life made by Ernest Rhys the tears came to my

feeling of the boundlessness of the universe, of the greatness of a man—perhaps, only perhaps, it may be my

glory to help others to "justify" your work; it surely is my heart's desire.

My excuse for writing you is the sending of a book; a first utterance, called "Voices & Undertones"—it

I think the dinner my good friends gave me recently, at Morgan's Hall, gave me a new lease of life.

"At least here I am surrounded by my books, and the roses you see my friends send me daily.

Arnold, you are right welcome to my home."

My second wife, you know, was an American lady, and that gives me a claim on your people.

There was no ceremoniousness about my visit to the President, and as a journalist I liked my brief talk

Belmont Sept 15 '89 (Sunday afternoon) Dear Walt:— I never meant my last poor postal to be the answer

to write the bk I told you of, I must bore you with a letter—just to say how'd'e, & to tell you that my

staunch little dame, my brave frau kin is going to make a little visiting tour, & will some day make

for my freedom! [Here I cut a caper] Now for six weeks of thought . I wrote to F.

My gloire di Dijon rose has grown 12 feet high in many rigorous shoots.

London To 2 d March '89 My dear Walt Whitman, During the past day or two I have been arranging your portraits

between the lines, feeling all the time as if I can still see you in your great arm-chair—as during my

It is this impression that I must try to convey as far as may be in my article in the S. A.

So my instinct for life & the open road grows stronger every day. "Right Jack Health!"

I believe I told you that my sister Edith was with me here.

"I round and finish little, if anything; and could not, consistently with my scheme.

Whitman tells us, "Ever since what might be call'd thought, or the budding of thought, fairly began in my

I felt it all as positively then in my young days as I do now in my old ones; to formulate a poem whose

My book ought to emanate buoyancy and gladness legitimately enough, for it was grown out of those elements

, and has been the comfort of my life since it was originally commenced."

Camden April 17 '89 A heavy saturated leaden day—& my condition ab't the same.

N[elly]'s card came yesterday—my best prayers for more mark'd improvement—I have just sent off books

bo't in England—one Dr B[ucke]'s book specially sent for —I have just finished my supper:dinner.

This would be my notion of the volume, as a , if I knew nothing of its author—of its "only begetter."

For the regard, the affection, which convoyed your noble argosy to this my haven,—believe me, my dear

He reported you as saying that I wouldn't take off my hat to Apollo, if we sh d happen to meet.

Well: there is too much taking off of hats, but I certainly should doff my own to the Sun-God.

Pray give my kind regards to M. Traubel. Edmund Clarence Stedman to Walt Whitman, 27 March 1889

Belmont Mass Oct 3. 89 Dear Old Quaker Friend of the horse-taming sea kings of Long Island: My thorn

He drew those pictures of yr home for my book; but takes the blackguard view of you.

My dame laid him out flat after calling on you. She can do such things, is keen as steel.

White's pitiful parody of L of G. in my face & thot he had floord me, he said he ahd heard that Edwin

I have to do it for my writings now.

for there is nothing to write ab't—only the fact of writing to you if that is anything—Here I am in my

den as for a year & a half, but not so much different or given out yet—My sleeping & appetite yet hold

fair—you know I am along now in my 71st— Love to you all— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Mary Whitall

walk with God in the dark, Than go alone in the light; I would rather walk with him by faith Than pick my

"After the dazzle of day is gone, Only the dark, dark night shows to my eyes the stars; After the clangor

of organ majestic, or chorus, or perfect band, Silent, athwart my soul, moves the symphony true" Thomas

There is a certain idea in my works—to glorify industry, nature and pure intstict.

I always remember that my ancestors were Dutch .

In my books, in my prose as well as my poetry, are many knots to untie.

I don't know why some men compare my book with the Bible.

Mendelssohn is my favorite. I always like to hear him.

evn'g as usual (always welcome)—he is well—is a clerk in a bank in Phila—Am sitting at present alone in my

I enclose one of my late circulars as it may have a wisp of interest to you.

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

volumes of Horace Traubel's With Walt Whitman in Camden (various publishers: 1906–1996) and Whitman's "My

furnished me by the printer after all, & I will send you 15 copies —The cards in the little envelope are my

Tom H. comes every day—my brother George also—my sister Lou has just visited me this mn'g—Y'r letter

treatment applied to himself—it is autobiographic of course—pathologic— It grows cloudy & cooler—have had my

America Nothing very new or different, Alys comes often & is as welcomed as sunshine—I am sitting here in my

den as ever—dark & rainy to-day & yesterday—My Canadian nurse & friend has left me—(he had a good chance

along better than you might imagine—a bad physical brain probably catarrhal—& hopeless locomotion—are my

"After completing my poems," then, writes Mr.

"That I have not gain'd the acceptance of my own time; that from a worldly and business point of view

I had my choice when I commenced.

"The best comfort of the whole business is that I have had my say entirely my own way—the value thereof

No one will get at my verses who insists upon viewing them as a literary performance."

I have abt 10 minutes a day to my self!

Wilson has my MS now. Am going to take a vacation in a month.

Do drop me a line dear & revered papa, & relieve my anxiety abt you. W. S. Kennedy.

Phil Pa Sept 15 89 My Dear Walt Whitman I met with a dreadful accident several weeks ago, and so could

money is in Drexels Bank, and as soon as I can go to town I will have it sent to you—I write this with my

left hand as my right arm is useless. $50. 00 of the money is from Henry Irving and $25. from Bram Stoker

Traubel has read my letter to you, I presume. My essay on you and my translation of "D.

Am still laid up here by disablement and paralysis—am confined entirely to my room and mostly to my chair

My dear friend O'Connor is very ill at Washington.

substantial volume—not that I am overwhelmed or even entirely satisfied by it, but as I had not put my