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—write often as convenient God bless you & Frau & my Boston friends— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to William

William White [New York: New York University Press, 1977], 2:585.

book sent March 24 Swanpool Falmouth Cornwall England— March•9•1891• Dear Sir My friend Mr Gleeson White

Gleeson White, an Englishman Whitman described as a "middle-aged man very gentlemanly & pleasant," visited

William White (New York: New York University Press, 1978), 2:575.

admiringly reads your writings, and who fancies she feels their spirit Sincerely Yours Laura Lyon White

Laura Lyon White to Walt Whitman, 29 January 1891

again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced

and still in the coffin—I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the

sycamores & mountain ashes, overlooking a wide expanse of pastoral country dotted with old time, grey & white

In the middle distance lay the lake, to purple waters sparkling in the sunshine & rippling in tiny white-crested

At our feet lay the white roadway & the grey stone work of the low-arched bridge at one end of which

Upon the lovely landscape the sun shone with dazzling effulgence from out the white-cloud-flecked empyrean

piercing and pealing, Waves, air, midnight, their savagest trinity lashing, Out in the shadows there milk-white

wending, Steadily, slowly, through hoarse roar never remitting, Along the midnight edge by those milk-white

White Hall, Ky.

I remain yours truly Cassius Marcellus Clay Walt Whitman Esq. see | notes | April 1 st | 1891 White Hall

On the lower left Clay has written: "White Hall: | ky. | C. Clay."

grave an ancient sorrowful mother, Once a queen, now lean and tatter'd seated on the ground, Her old white

cold ground with fore- head forehead between your knees, O you need not sit there veil'd in your old white

See William White's article in The American Book Collector, XI (May, 1961), 30–31, where Wood's second

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

at sunset, the river between, Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of white

imperious waves, Or some lone bark buoy'd on the dense marine, Where joyous full of faith, spreading white

spread your white sails my little bark athwart the imperious waves, Chant on, sail on, bear o'er the

the unearthly cry, Its veins down the neck distend, its eyes roll till they show nothing but their whites

Off the word I have spoken I except not one—red, white, black, are all deific, In each house is the ovum

soiree, I heard what the singers were singing so long, Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the white

She sits in an armchair under the shaded porch of the farmhouse, The sun just shines on her old white

WORLD take good notice, silver stars fading, Milky hue ript, weft of white detaching, Coals thirty-eight

golden, transparent haze of the warm afternoon sun; The aspiring lilac bushes with profuse purple or white

tea—Suppose you have March Lippincott's —Best thanks to you & dear J W W[allace] for Review, Black & White

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

Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!

Some emerge on the opposite bank, others are just entering the ford—while, Scarlet and blue and snowy white

"Black & White" 33, Bouverie Street, London, E.C. 16th March 189 1. Sir/.

Raise main-sail and jib—steer forth, O little white-hull'd sloop, now speed on really deep waters, (I

is, Let it remain back there on its nail suspended, With pink, blue, yellow, all blanch'd, and the white

In the night, in solitude, tears, On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand, Tears

AFTER the sea-ship, after the whistling winds, After the white-gray sails taut to their spars and ropes

A huge sob—a few bubbles—the white foam spirting up—and then the women gone, Sinking there while the

sea-waves hurry in and out, Not the air delicious and dry, the air of ripe summer, bears lightly along white

"White Star S.S. Brittanic N. Y.["] I will send you a word the last thing as I sail out to sea.

himself many details of the sick room—the ashen face against the pillow, the wasted hand, the long white

The cold, white mantel is massed with photographs. Faces of friends, evidently.

The woodwork is sombre white, and the paint is cracked badly in many places and is peeling off.

It was marked with a white tidy. Then more heaps of papers.

White curtains were drawn part way down.

and seeds, the thick tangle, openings, and pink turf, Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white

In "The Colonel, at Home, in Sonoma County," (Overland, 17 [February, 1891], 200–208), Laura Lyon White

WHO are you dusky woman, so ancient hardly human, With your woolly-white and turban'd head, and bare

Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white

What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud!

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

In the night, in solitude, tears, On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand, Tears

(My verses, written first for forenoon life, and for the summer's, autumn's spread, I pass to snow-white

Then to the third—a face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory; Young man

Shall leave here two weeks today and sail by White Star S. Britannic 7 a.m. wednesday 8 July.

spasmic geyser- loops geyserloops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing, Nor Oregon's white

of me Heave the anchor short, Raise main-sail and jib—steer forth, for aye O little white-hull'd sloop

Or white-domed capitol with majestic figure surmounted, or all the old high-spired cathedrals, That little

From time to time sanguinary collisions between blacks and whites occur, and the diminishing number of

the sons of Ham are seriously multiplying in the South, where in some districts they quite swamp the white

Nor have we anywhere in England a Town Hall nearly as magnificent as the huge pile of white marble, reared

Girard College is another magnificent building of white marble, in the Corinthian style, imitating the

thy varied strange suggestions, (I see and plainly list thy talk and conference here,) Thy troops of white-maned

How dreadfull she looks— wan and allmost entirely help less her thin gray—allmost white hair.

sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white

NOT alone those camps of white, old comrades of the wars, When as order'd forward, after a long march

some are such beautiful animals, so lofty looking; Some are buff-color'd, some mottled, one has a white

where men have not yet sail'd, the farthest polar sea, ripply, crystalline, open, beyond the floes, White

tree tops, Below, the red cedar festoon'd with tylandria, the pines and cypresses growing out of the white

wind, The camp of Georgia wagoners just after dark, the supper-fires and the cooking and eating by whites

At the curbstone is a block of white marble with the initials 'W.

His body was thinner than I had ever seen it, but the fine head crowned with its white hair was unaltered

Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white

What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud!

bleeding to death, (he is shot in the abdomen,) I stanch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white

signs, I would sing your contest for the 19th Presidentiad, I would sing how an old man, tall, with white

The wretched features of ennuyés, the white features of corpses, the livid faces of drunkards, the sick-gray

and even to his head, he strikes out with courageous arms, he urges himself with his legs, I see his white

meas- ureless measureless love, and the son holds the father in his arms with measureless love, The white

hair of the mother shines on the white wrist of the daughter, The breath of the boy goes with the breath

of the rifle-balls, I see the shells exploding leaving small white clouds, I hear the great shells shrieking