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Some of them say my face there has a rogue in it. O'Connor called it my sea-captain face.

W. commented in this way: "I'm honest when I say, damn My Captain and all the My Captains in my book!

, my Captain!

FIRST DRAFT MANUSCRIPT OF ONE VERSE OF WHITMAN'S "MY CAPTAIN" My captain does not answer, his lips are

My captain does not answer, his lips are closed and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no

the rest of my days in that vicinity.

happiest hours have been spent there—some of my freest hours."

Upon my remonstrance he said: "I will make it a religion to like the new man."

He took it out of my hand, scanned it, handed it back.

"If I die in the midst of things you may fall heir to all my work: think of that: all my work!"

Give me a day or two more: I will do my best to be good.

very sick—and sore: tell them I feel as if the whole ground had been swept from under my feet—as if I

of a socialist than I thought I was: maybe not technically, politically, so, but intrinsically, in my

When I go to my tailor I lay down a law to him: that among the prime requisites of a suit of clothes

Held a letter gleefully up before my face. "Here is the Whittier," he said: "Take it—be satisfied."

But I, for my part—we—must not play the game with that end in view.

Osler respected my objection." Box of flowers from Charlotte Fiske Bates.

"I do not seem to get the thing very clearly in my own mind: it eludes me."

He said of it: "I have no doubt you are right: I will give the poems my attention.

Complained, however: "While that is true, my vim and strength do not return: I despair of recovering

"It don't go very well: my brain is not equal to it: could not cope with it—gets tired, takes my pen

out of my hand."

Finally: "Hicks is entitled to my best—not my worst.

My best would be too little—my worst would be an insult."

It now takes all my energy merely to get to the chair and back to the bed again.

"I knew the habitats of Hicks so well—my grand-parents knew him personally so well—the shore up there

What all this comes to is, that just that sort of a debate is going on in my mind now, whether to condemn

For thirty years I have had it in my plans to write a book about Hicks.

the procrastinations, stranded, with nothing but a few runaway thoughts on the subject to show for my

and I am still without the first show of substantial strength—though it is true the acute phases of my

"Yes, indeed, essentially knows it well: I think she takes it in—reads nearly all my books.

My forte was—if I can say it that way—in floating.

After I had written my letter to Emerson I wondered if I had not overdone my call.

My Dear Sir:Mr.

I started something with that end in view, but my condition at the time was rather dubious, so that I

"My writing has been clear from the start—almost from boyhood: not beautiful, but legible."

He called my attention to a letter from the West and called it "empty".

I can never know when the door will be banged shut in my face."

They are not my ideals but they are ideals—very lofty ideals." Saturday, July 21, 1888.

"The text is a little mixed up," W. said of it apologetically: "My mind is not now-a-days a perfect machine

"My brain often takes speed and is away—gets rein-free and flies without will or plan—and I am helpless

"My whole soul revolts against that line: my very first feeling was one of utter disgust."

My place in Washington was a peculiar one—my reasons for being there, my doing there what I did do.

I do not think I quite had my match.

Wonderfully cheerful in the evening on my arrival, talking most freely for more than an hour.

My last thought confirmed my first: it seemed like supererogation to impose such a statement upon the

"But Washington, New Orleans, Brooklyn—they are my cities of romance.

He asked me some questions about my health.

I could not stand before a Millet picture with my hat on." Monday July 23, 1888.

perhaps in a day or two I may be able to render them in a better shape, when I write again to tell you of my

Here health I bring you in one draught of song Caught in my rhymster's cup from earth's delight Where

I had these letters in my pocket when I saw him today. Letter three he had me read aloud.

"I rely a good deal upon my general feeling about a piece when it comes back to me in type."

Sometimes I think he is a little afraid of my friends.

"My head is behaving itself right decently just now. But it's funny, how unambitious my body is.

My fatal procrastination has tripped me up at last.

"My notes are very accurate.

"I want no club founded in my name."

The effect upon me was slow, though one of the surgeons there finally called my attention to my own peril

"Some kind words from my friend William Carey there—William Carey.

Some don't like my long lines, some do: some don't like my commas, some do: some cuss my long catalogues

My proper habitat is out-of-doors."

I spend all my time at work about the place and like it much.

"Yes, they do, and I was about to say so, but you took it out of my mouth.

Those fellows have one virtue—they always use good paper: and on that I manage to do a good deal of my

"I've been taken and taken beyond count—taken from every side—even from my blind side"—laughing—"taken

I must be satisfied now if I have succeeded in hinting at matters which it was a part of my original

"I had my temptations, but they were not strong enough to tempt.

"I suppose I did: I wrote things down: I saw them better in my handwriting than in my mind's eye—could

Armory Sq Hospital,Sunday Evening Oct 4Dear Madam,Your letter reached me this forenoon with the $30 for my

Who put you on to my secret?" "It's not even a secret—anybody might know it who looked."

My nature, my temperament, my blood, should take me close to the Teuton."

Here was my first tally of life—here were my first tries with the lute—in that book I am just like a

for two hours on my tin horn."

W. answering my inquiry said: "No, I didn't go down stairs today.

it won't hurt me: my caution, you remember, is six and over!

I quoted this: "I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother." "Yes," said W.

I reminded W. of one of my sisters similarly afflicted.

Here—take this bunch with my blessing and be happy.

I haven't cast out all of my devils yet." Brought him new proofs which he at once glanced over.

"I do little nowadays but sit and thank my stars that I have fallen into such good hands in the time

of my need."

W. added, answering another question of Harned's: "I like to keep my prices down to the level of my real

My acquaintance with Leaves of Grass dates from my early university days some ten years ago, when having

I have never made any full statement on religion in any of my writings but I have always intended to.

W. saying of it to me: "Eddy appeals to my heart, to my two arms: I seem to want to reach out and help

But for myself I do not feel that I could be overwhelmed by any misfortune that left my mind untouched

I came across the book this last summer, and it laid hold of my mind so that I could not put it away

But I got my roots stronger in the earth—master would not do anymore: no, not then: would no longer do

Said as to my inquiries: "I am bad again, very bad—somehow start into a new siege: it is my head, my

My dear Mr.

That is my habit—they call it my procrastination—it has always been my habit.

old days, my youth, my forty years ago, any more!"

But my memory! my memory!"

in my optimism, my democracy."

Weda Cook sang a My Captain song of her own composition.

I attribute much of my success in weathering this attack to my good stock—to my father, my mother: indeed

man,' 'my man,' 'my man.'

I must get to my bed: my head reels: I feel as though a minute more on my feet—on my feet—here—would

"It must be milder: my body tells me so." Letter from Bucke, he said. Searched for it.

He laughed heartily: "That's what I was just saying: it's my funeral that's in the way!"

He went on I could see rather because of his own impulse than of my suggestion.

He was interested in my account of my father's extensive reading of the German classics and of his great

I said I considered my playdays quite as valuable for life-making as my workdays: did he?

"I didn't say smash, Maurice: I only said I felt it in my bones that you'd never be tested."

Why, I felt as if he was kicking my ass out of the house!"

Then he added: "There are some of my friends who are determined that I shall not be represented as a

I must not wait any longer now, though there is a fog outside and a fog or something of the sort in my

For my own sake, as well as yours, I wish it were!

"My God, no!

"You may go along, to give my step a sort of certainty."

Just today I read Bucke out of my notes W.'

My God!" W. mockingly said: "Maurice, you shock me!"

and still my withers are unwrung!"

"Do you think the meter's success means my failure, Walt?" "It might."

W. said: "That's another of my illusions shattered."

W. exclaimed: "My God! has it come to that? am I fallen so low?

W. asked: "I wonder if my words will be included?

Bucke said: "I hope you won't take offense at my freedom?"

W. reading Century which he laid down on my entrance. Reported his health "rather on the improve."

book: I'm still uncertain where he is—whether he has yet got back to West Park or not: I addressed my

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

My talk with him must have sunk in.

I remember what poor William says: he says I always like my idiot pictures best!"

my body against his.

My God! has my love of life survived? have my dreams survived?" A sob burst from his throat.

"Horace: you must return as my delegate to Walt: take my body and take my soul, with you: set them down

God was on my side after all.

I run my pennants up up into the air and fill the skies with my cry: Victory is mine forever!"

s on my way to Germantown, as he expected.

Then I remembered that he was my mother's son, my brother—not my counsellor.

Now my voice is stronger. I ask—why will you not speak to me?

For the first time I act as my nature prompts me.

Farewell, my dear friend.

stirs my curiosity—makes me wonder how far I survived in his good graces.

I reminded W. of Captain Lindell's wife, who suffered similarly. W.

oh my yes!" "I wondered: I wondered."

all the people who really know me, my work, consider, include, love, admire, William.

"Good: that's it: my soul won't let me. That's the way we have to keep up the balance."

he is my old boss." Adding: "Evarts was a very kind, friendly fellow." In the literary way?

Germantown, Sunday night,March 3d, 1889.My dear Traubel:Now that you and Doctor Bucke are gone I have

My God! but he's a time-taker: he's slower'n pitch on a frosty morning!

My lameness is very bad, and I am very exhausted before many hours pass each day.

of the bowels, and must, under medical orders, resort to artificial means, and this is my remedy.

To my: "I do," he answered: "The situation as I see it now is a good deal worse than I had supposed."

body thus and so: the question is my mind's question, not my body's: the mind, not the body, must answer

Knowing my name would be called I slipped out the back door. Salter asked for W.'

B. said: "I have no call to speak for Walt about this but my impression is that while he believes the

so—in my friends than in my enemies."

Chamberlin's letter shows that DeLong got my letter of last Friday—though where this W.W. meeting was

Well, Horace, having pleased William and Nellie, I may rest on my oars."

I doubt if that does any good: I think my friends, some of my friends, quite understand that that is

He pointed his finger towards me: "Leave it to you in my will." Laughed.

My life now seems very pale and poor compared with those days.

cold still persists: my head is still much choked by it."

work finally makes on me—the response it meets with, in my own consciousness."

Still at times my thoughts all go back ["God knows, John!

I can't get back my ruminating habit.

Then: "After my meal, my dinner, I put up the sash—so—on all these milder days: today is debatable ground

I do not know what I carry in my arms pressed close to my side and bosom!

I turn my steps to "Zion's Mill" a cemetery.

My womb is clean and pure. It is ready for thy child my love.

how lovingly will I cherish and guard it, our child my love. Thine the pleasure my love.

My motives are pure and holy. Our boy my love! Do you not already love him?

Adding then by the way of definiteness: "But I have just finished my breakfast—relished it: relished

Bucke said no: "I would rather not have my name used at all in that connection: O'Connor has a doctor

: "You don't: instead of doing me harm it does me good to have you fellows here: it lifts me out of my

I've found the Chamberlin letter: since you brought it back I got it messed away among the papers on my

My friend Baxter sent us his copy of your big book with notes, one or two, from you, pasted in.You do

But he said: "I am not myself today: I am very uncomfortable in my head: very uncomfortable in my belly

Went off to town to keep my appointment with Bucke.

My dear Walt:I snatch five minutes from writing up the wrecks.

I shook my head.

Said to Bucke: "I am not at my worst—neither at my best."

I met Harned up the street, he to his, I to my home. Afterwards both to W.'

W. said: "I can't bring my heart to say amen to that."

I said: "That makes my definition of heaven apropos." W. asked: "What's that?"

W. looked over at Tom: "Do you think the world would accept my poem?"

10.30 on my way back passed 328. I did not intend to go in.

Called my attention at once to the following postal from Mrs. O'C.:Washington, March 12, 1889.

Whitman,' said he, 'I should like to read you my drama and get your opinion of its merits.'

My dear Walt Whitman.I have indeed been extremely sorry to hear firstly from the transmitted paper of

Society, I pressed him for two years ago (when he had previously sent me some very fine articles for my

"Let it come out just as the big book did—from my hands alone."

"My father was booked in all those things—took a great caper at all the progressive fellows.

A death in my sister's family (today) will require my devotion, etc., for a few days.

To my description of the first glimpse of the Capitol: "Yes, it is grand—vast: it sits so proudly on

Attorney General Speed.Sir: I notice that it is the intention of holding Captain Wirz responsible for

I was nearly eleven months held there as a prisoner and I know that Captain Wirz was uniformly kind to

It was putting my own feeling into words. Seemed to sum him up!"

W. then: "Take my advice: shut up!"

I hope, therefore, my paragraphing may be permitted by the benignant printer.

I was horrified to learn that my footnote about Lowell was set as per copy.

I am rummaging my memory for an epigraph for the appendix, as you requested.

"I don't know what it is—the weather, some meteoric influence, what—but I feel like the devil: my head

Bucke hilarious: "My God! has it come to this?"

I said: "That would not go in my pocket."

Bucke said: "My tailor is a pope: he does as he pleases." W. laughed over that.

W. gave me a letter for my "data chest" as he called it.

Harned, my sister Gussie, the boy, Clifford, along. W. in bright mood. Talked fluently.

Picked up a box of candies which he gave to my sister.

In the midst of some talk, W. turned to my sister: "And the baby?"

Then: "Yes: yes: Priestley is my man too—my man as you present him, but not my man in the aspect these

W. said: "Tom, all of you are too good to me: my friends: you give me so much without my asking I'd feel

I must give you a copy then: I must have several here: he is one of my old—as also new—enthusiasms.

I insist on my cheap little figure"—here he raised his right foot into view and pointed to it with his

an argument: then, beyond all that, I should say this is anyhow not a question to be argued: after my

I took the slip out of my pocket and did so.

I folded the letter and the slip together, put them back in my pocket and looked at W. "Well?"

skin: my skin is free: I perspire freely: I don't know but every day this winter my body has been at

own way—hold by my own views.

He shook his fist at me: "Why so hot, my little man?

"Tell them I am still chained to my rock but that I can still flap my wings: tell them I may not be just

Give my love to Doctor B.

I should have a number of copies—for my friends, for my family.

Said W.: "I have sent my usual postal—told him you had forwarded the paper."

My God! will my friends never know me for what I am? Of course if I chose—then I would choose!

you have quite taken the wind out of my sails: I feel helpless."

Edward lectures: that should have been my business, too: if I'd gone direct to the people, read my poems

W. writing a note to Harper Brothers who have asked permission to print My Captain in their Fifth Reader

Said to me: "It's My Captain again: always My Captain: the school readers have got along as far as that

My God! when will they listen to me for whole and good?

"I wrote Bucke of my fearful inertia: that inertia is my worst failing now: I told him I could not explain

[pencil] And you O my Soul?

Called my attention at once to another postal from Washington.

"I can't be arrogant with myself—can't absolutely subdue myself: my fears will spring up—then my hopes

"I wrote my usual postal to William—also a postal to the Doctor."

He therefore said: "I am getting pretty near my financial edge—my limit.

He was a little twitted by my stubbornness. I saw it.

entirely to my taste.

It is probably that my state is reaction from the severe work of the winter at Washington.

Told him of my letter to the Chicago News.

He took my hand.

I am a postponer when it comes to making them: I put off my yes, my no, on the slightest pretext: this

"I can't get adjusted to it: the thought of our separation—of my personal helplessness: then my memory

I struggle against my own inner convictions."

My dear Walt,This morning I had occasion to call at the house of a Mr.

But I worked my way through it. He'd say: "Don't give up," laughing.

own personality (things seen through my eyes and what my vision brings)—a book full enough of mosaic

and good: if not then I shall run the risk and keep the sheets in my own hands."

book is of another order: it is the collected statement of my life— of my work: a statement of what

"It probably is a whim—my whimsicality—but so it must be."

Insisted on my taking the nickel for the paper.

This will be my birthday gift to the world, my last, my parting, gift: the world has made many birthday

now, if he does not object, will draw up this check for the half of it: I'm obliged to be cautious: my

I do not like to write this way but I think you ought to know my candid opinion.

My dear Doctor:When I wrote you at Philadelphia I omitted to answer your question as to the existence

W. said: "My silence seemed to astonish her.

who is Clifford's friend has my respect."