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Baltimore June 6th 1891 My Dear Walt Whitman Please write your autograph & enclose in the accompanying

envelope I appreciate the many & favors asked of you but desire your autograph so much to add to my

V. ) in the midst of brick and stone again, in my home in Boston.

I picked them on purpose for you—and here they are—with my love and gratitude.

group of little children, and their ways and chatter, flow in, upon me Like welcome rippling water o'er 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.

Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats, Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me, (For what is my

You toil of painful and choked articulations, you meannesses, You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my

Ah think not you finally triumph, my real self has yet to come forth, It shall yet march forth o'ermastering

My dear W. W.

It is postmarked: SCHOOL GREEN | B | MY 14 | 91 | ISLE OF WIGHT; A; RECEIVED | May | 24 | 12 | 12 | ;

& persistence sufficient to write and publish such thoughts;—But increased invalidism has prevented my

preserving your cheerfulness serenity & kindly spirit through it all—I am writing (or scratching rather) for my

good, to satisfy my own soul —So pardon me & I trust the reading of this will not weary you With kindest

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests

night midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my

with eager calls and orders of officers, While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my

far or near, (rousing even in dreams a devilish exultation and all the old mad joy in the depths of my

galloping by or on a full run, With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my

early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower refresh'd with sleep, Behold me where I pass, hear my

voice, approach, Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body

AS at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my mother

In you whoe'er you are my book perusing, In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing, All,

the West joyously sounding, Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable, Infinitesimals out of my

life, and many a life, (For not my life and years alone I give—all, all I give,) These waifs from the

Fascinated, my eyes reverting from the south, dropt, to follow those slender windrows, Chaff, straw,

O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth, Oppress'd with myself that I have dared to open my mouth,

whose echoes recoil upon me I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my

sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart upon me and sting me, Because I have dared to open my

Me and mine, loose windrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See, from my dead lips

As I Lay With My Head in Your Lap Camerado. AS I LAY WITH MY HEAD IN YOUR LAP CAMERADO.

AS I lay with my head in your lap camerado, The confession I made I resume, what I said to you and the

open air I resume, I know I am restless and make others so, I know my words are weapons full of danger

As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before

then I answer'd, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my

As I sit writing here, sick and grown old, Not my least burden is that dulness of the years, querilities

, Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy, constipation, whimpering ennui, May filter in my daily songs.

Then my realities; What else is so real as mine?

States awhile, but I cannot tell whither or how long, Perhaps soon some day or night while I am singing my

AS they draw to a close, Of what underlies the precedent songs—of my aims in them, Of the seed I have

in them, Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them, (For them, for them have I lived, in them my

AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my

Now sound no note O trumpeters, Not at the head of my cavalry parading on spirited horses, With sabres

drawn and glistening, and carbines by their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen!

My handsome tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.)

Perfume therefore my chant, O love, immortal love, Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers

Whitman's book Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) was his last miscellany, and it included both poetry and short

Thirty-one poems from the book were later printed as "Good-Bye my Fancy" in Leaves of Grass (1891–1892

For more information see, Donald Barlow Stauffer, "'Good-Bye my Fancy' (Second Annex) (1891)," Walt Whitman

Beginning My Studies. BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

BEGINNING my studies the first step pleas'd me so much, The mere fact consciousness, these forms, the

BEHOLD this swarthy face, these gray eyes, This beard, the white wool unclipt upon my neck, My brown

August 31st /91 Supreme Court Library Melbourne My Dear Master I have received and heartily thank you

My Fancy." I have not wanted to bother you during your severe illness, hence my silence.

Mr Sutherland & Jim Hartigan want a copy of "Good bye my Fancy." Could you send price, please.

those portraits where you appear with (as it were) storm tossed beard, your hat on, and a hearty, sea-captain-like

Whitman's book Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) was his last miscellany, and it included both poetry and short

Thirty-one poems from the book were later printed as "Good-Bye my Fancy" in Leaves of Grass (1891–1892

For more information see, Donald Barlow Stauffer, "'Good-Bye my Fancy' (Second Annex) (1891)," Walt Whitman

his January 16, 1872 letter to Rudolf Schmidt, Whitman wrote that Freiligrath "translates & commends my

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

salutes, When the fire-flashing guns have fully alerted me, and heaven- clouds heaven-clouds canopy my

To us, my city, Where our tall-topt marble and iron beauties range on opposite sides, to walk in the

See my cantabile!

, I chant the world on my Western sea, I chant copious the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky,

sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes, My stars and stripes fluttering in the wind,

make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, I reject none, accept all, then reproduce all in my

What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?

Will it absorb into me as I absorb food, air, to appear again in my strength, gait, face?

rapt verse, my call, mock me not!

You by my charm I invoke.

past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead, Myself through every by-gone phase—my

idle youth—old age at hand, My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past, By any grand

the silence, Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving, The shrubs and trees, (as I lift my

Philadelphia, May 12 189 1 Dear Walt Whitman, I hand you my check for the precious book into which you

to the President at the levee, And he says Good-day, my brother!

Not in this beating & pounding at my temples & wrists, O pulse of my life!

See the pastures and forests in my poems.

My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long

stretch of my life.— I will duly pass the day, O my mother!

A carol closing sixty-nine—a résumé—a repetition, My lines in joy and hope continuing on the same, Of

ye, O God, Life, Nature, Freedom, Poetry; Of you, my Land—your rivers, prairies, States—you, mottled

entire—Of north, south, east and west, your items all; Of me myself—the jocund heart yet beating in my

, old, poor and paralyzed—the strange inertia falling pall-like round me, The burning fires down in my

Jan. 6. 1891 Dear Sir, I have just received your "Leaves of Grass &c." 1890—for which accept my thanks

criticism . . . after full retrospect of his works and life, the aforesaid 'odd-kind chiel' remains to my

So anyway I thought you wd. like to know that we here (my boys & we masters) had been reading yr.

For my boys & colleagues truly yours Cecil Reddie. Cecil Reddie to Walt Whitman, 14 June 1891

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

Why do you tremble and clutch my hand so convulsively?

Aye, this is the ground, My blind eyes even as I speak behold it re-peopled from graves, The years recede

That and here my General's first battle, No women looking on nor sunshine to bask in, it did not conclude

I saw him at the river-side, Down by the ferry lit by torches, hastening the embarcation; My General

But when my General pass'd me, As he stood in his boat and look'd toward the coming sun, I saw something

dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wending my way through the homes of men, rich

words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd myself to an early death; But my

charity has no death—my wisdom dies not, neither early nor late, And my sweet love bequeath'd here and

of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled and dispel'd, and my

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4

Cape May July 21/91 Dear Mr Whitman "Good Bye my Fancy" came announcing in your proper hand that it was

thyself and love the Truth for itself" I have written enough to tell you that I cannot explain to you my

debt so my creditor you must remain Sincerely Yours C G Garrison Charles G.

Whitman's book Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) was his last miscellany, and it included both poetry and short

Thirty-one poems from the book were later printed as "Good-Bye my Fancy" in Leaves of Grass (1891–1892

For more information see, Donald Barlow Stauffer, "'Good-Bye my Fancy' (Second Annex) (1891)," Walt Whitman

Now, at Chicago, I have just bought "Good-Bye My Fancy," and renew the acquaintance.

ferry: "I don't know what I should do without the ferry, & river, & crossing, day & night—I believe my

Whitman's book Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) was his last miscellany, and it included both poetry and short

Thirty-one poems from the book were later printed as "Good-Bye my Fancy" in Leaves of Grass (1891–1892

For more information see, Donald Barlow Stauffer, "'Good-Bye my Fancy' (Second Annex) (1891)," Walt Whitman

I obtained a nurse, for my time was occupied in procuring remedies—all day—until allmost almost night

I have improved this property more than 1000$—by my personal industry.

He might come on himse lf Dear, trusty friend of ours dear Walt—I cannot fully expres s my gratitude

C Studio 21 Pearl St Sept. 8. 91 My dearly esteemed Brother and most reliable Friend— Han rec' d your

Heyde Have paid my taxes, this year—an assessment for water pipe of 15 dollars is yet unpaid.

see you sometime next month—I expect to come East on a short visit, and will spend a day with you on my

—My dear mother is yet living in Boston at the age of 77.

—one of the principal objects of my visit is of course to see her once more.

the Saturday Evn'g Transcript so you need not send that number, but you seldom do so—God bless you my

I write to inform you that I have expunged from the forthcoming Edition of my "Talks with Emerson" a

Such was my feeling I remember in regard to the effect of the incident when I mentioned it.

Yours with high respect, Charles J Woodbury I am only here temporarily; my permanent address is,— #123

BY the city dead-house by the gate, As idly sauntering wending my way from the clangor, I curious pause

Fair, fearful wreck—tenement of a soul—itself a soul, Unclaim'd, avoided house—take one breath from my

the streets, nor the bright windows with goods in them, Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my

as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering response to my

yours—yet peace no more, In peace I chanted peace, but now the drum of war is mine, War, red war is my

body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.

COURAGE yet, my brother or my sister!

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

WHO LEARNS MY LESSON COMPLETE? WHO learns my lesson complete?

MY PICTURE-GALLERY.

COME my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your weapons ready, Have you your pistols?

O my breast aches with tender love for all!

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your

I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies, as I myself do,

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

LOVER divine and perfect Comrade, Waiting content, invisible yet, but certain, Be thou my God.

O Death, (for Life has served its turn,) Opener and usher to the heavenly mansion, Be thou my God.

All great ideas, the races' aspirations, All heroisms, deeds of rapt enthusiasts, Be ye my Gods.

arm and half enclose with my hand, That containing the start of each and all, the virtue, the germs

SKIRTING the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance