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resumed the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls and orders of officers, While from some distant part

fish-shaped island, As I wended the shores I know, As I walk'd with that electric self seeking types. 2

utmost a little wash'd-up drift, A few sands and dead leaves to gather, Gather, and merge myself as part

accepting exulting in Death in its turn the same as life, The entrance of man to sing; To compact you, ye parted

My brown hands and the silent manner of me without charm; Yet comes one a Manhattanese and ever at parting

answers, I too arising, answering, descend to the pavements, merge with the crowd, and gaze with them. 2

destin'd conqueror, yet treacherous lip-smiles everywhere, And death and infidelity at every step.) 2

west-bred face, To him the hereditary countenance bequeath'd both mother's and father's, His first parts

new States, Congress convening every Twelfth-month, the members duly coming up from the uttermost parts

I dare not shirk any part of myself, Not any part of America good or bad, Not to build for that which

with the power's pulsations, and the charm of my theme was upon me, Till the tissues that held me parted

The Centenarian's Story. THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY.

Volunteer of 1861-2, (at Washington Park, Brooklyn, assisting the Centenarian.)

As wending the crowds now part and disperse—but we old man, Not for nothing have I brought you hither—we

eighty-five years a-gone no mere parade receiv'd with applause of friends, But a battle which I took part

in myself—aye, long ago as it is, I took part in it, Walking then this hilltop, this same ground.

appointed days that forgive not, I dispense from this side judgments inexorable without the least remorse. 2

of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this child, And grass and white and red morning-glories, and white and

The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part of him, Winter-grain sprouts and those

Perhaps every mite has once form'd part of a sick person—yet behold!

What is prudence is indivisible, Declines to separate one part of life from every part, Divides not the

life a share or more or less, None born but it is born, conceal'd or unconceal'd the seed is waiting. 2

pert apparel, the deform'd attitude, drunkenness, greed, pre- mature premature death, all these I part

sending itself ahead countless years to come. 2 O but it is not the years—it is I, it is You, We touch

and am all and believe in all, I believe materialism is true and spiritualism is true, I reject no part

(Have I forgotten any part? any thing in the past?

the river pois'd, the twain yet one, a moment's lull, A motionless still balance in the air, then parting

My brown hands and the silent manner of me without charm; Yet comes one a Manhattanese and ever at parting

—no; But merely of two simple men I saw to-day on the pier in the midst of the crowd, parting the parting

2 The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account, That of the male

I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you, I believe

bones and the marrow in the bones, The exquisite realization of health; O I say these are not the parts

Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe, Return in peace to the ocean my love, I too am part of

shall be lawless, rude, illiterate, he shall be one condemn'd by others for deeds done, I will play a part

flung out from the steeples of churches and from all the public buildings and stores, The tearful parting

, the mother kisses her son, the son kisses his mother, (Loth is the mother to part, yet not a word does

THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY.

Volunteer of 1861-2, (at Washington Park, Brooklyn, assisting the Centenarian.)

in myself—aye, long ago as it is, I took part in it, Walking then this hilltop, this same ground.

the ceaseless ferry, faces and faces and faces, I see them and complain not, and am content with all. 2

thy notes, Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me, Now low, subdued, now in the distance lost. 2

, Lone, sulky, through the time's thick murk looking in vain for light, for hope, From unsuspected parts

Put in thy chants said he, No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put in, Put first

to me you bring, Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, And thought of him I love. 2

fish-shaped island, As I wended the shores I know, As I walk'd with that electric self seeking types. 2

utmost a little wash'd-up drift, A few sands and dead leaves to gather, Gather, and merge myself as part

Cluster: Songs of Parting. (1881) SONGS OF PARTING. AS THE TIME DRAWS NIGH.

Your horizon rises, I see it parting away for more august dramas, I see not America only, not only Liberty's

advancing with irresistible power on the world's stage, (Have the old forces, the old wars, played their parts

all its horrors, serves, And how now or at any time each serves the exquisite transition of death. 2

what was promis'd, When through these States walk a hundred millions of superb persons, When the rest part

appointed days that forgive not, I dispense from this side judgments inexorable without the least remorse. 2

from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose. 2

the day, The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part

air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies, Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts

play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!

toward eternity, Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.

the river pois'd, the twain yet one, a moment's lull, A motionless still balance in the air, then parting

Parts of the essay were used for Death of Thomas Carlyle published in Specimen Days in 1882 (later retained

(No. 2.), which was published in the Critic on April 9, 1881.

Though he did not include this essay as a whole in Specimen Days & Collect (1882–83), Whitman reprinted parts

and I suppose he represents a class of small proprietors, farmers, that used to be common in these parts

Put in thy chants said he, No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put in, Put first

Sojourner knew him to be innocent, took care of him in prison, testified as to his innocence,—a long story

It has formed a large part of their education.

the ceaseless ferry, faces and faces and faces, I see them and complain not, and am content with all. 2

years he has been laboring on a great work with one aim, and that what seemed fragmentary were the parts

flung out from the steeples of churches and from all the public buildings and stores, The tearful parting

, the mother kisses her son, the son kisses his mother, (Loth is the mother to part, yet not a word does

The Mechanical Explanation of Things. 2.

Philosophy in Europe and America . 2. The Results of Kant Miss ELIZABETH P. PEABODY. One Lecture.

, Lone, sulky, through the time's thick murk looking in vain for light, for hope, From unsuspected parts

sought to escape, confronting, reversing my cries, I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for.) 2

Bucke's book—a job I got through Buxton Forman, a great friend of Bucke's, done con amore on my part.

2 The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account, That of the male

I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you, I believe

bones and the marrow in the bones, The exquisite realization of health; O I say these are not the parts

treat of, escaping in those sighs of Viola, who never told her love, nor could tell, nor a billionth part

Whitma[n:] Can [you] come, with Bartlett, Kate, and [a c]harming lady and myself, [to see] Mr.

Quincy Shaw's pic[tures], on Friday at 2 p.m.[?] I shall call for you [wi]th carriage.

transcription in Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden (New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1915), 2:

We went out to Roxbury & stayed there 3 or 4 weeks We are now back home for part of the summer at least

have saved & partly furnished a large room for you in the other house, but the woman in the other part

spiritualism, and of the aesthetic or intellectual, Who having consider'd the body finds all its organs and parts

Do not these fragments, picked from different parts of the country, at random, give an idea of what the

The foregoing lines are but a part of the bird song.

Stedman had failed to grasp the wholeness of the work, though no finer characterization of the parts

Transcribed in part from an electronic copy, The Walt Whitman Archive Transcribed in part by Todd Stabley

Here we have in epitome the true story of The Creation of Man.

octillions of cubic leagues, do not hazard the space or make it im- patient impatient They are but parts

, anything is but a part.

As for its sensuality—and it may be less so than it seems—I do not so much wish those parts unwritten

, any thing is but a part.

2 Souls of men and women!

THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY.

2 Come forward O my soul, and let the rest retire, Listen, lose not, it is toward thee they tend, Parting

, To think that we are now here and bear our part. 2 Not a day passes, not a minute or second without

Whitman crossed out this letter, pasted it together with another piece of paper, and on the back wrote part

On the back Whitman wrote a draft of what would become part of Specimen Days. Marie R.

thy notes, Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me, Now low, subdued, now in the distance lost. 2

shall be lawless, rude, illiterate, he shall be one condemn'd by others for deeds done, I will play a part

The lines that appear in this manuscript were published posthumously as part of a poem titled "Supplement

poems entitled "Old Age Echoes" to a new printing of Leaves of Grass, and "Supplement Hours" was a part

Joel Myerson (New York: Garland, 1993), 2:624; and Major American Authors on CD-Rom: Walt Whitman (Westport

Joel Myerson (New York: Garland, 1993), 2:624; and Major American Authors on CD-Rom: Walt Whitman (Westport

Prof Morris in his initial volume, to be published early in the spring of 1882, will cover in part the

all so dear to me—what you are, (whatever it is,) I putting it at random in these songs, become a part

Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my ever-united lands—my body no more inevitably united, part

to part, and made out of a thousand diverse contributions one identity, any more than my lands are inevitably