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night I wend thy surf‑beat shore, Imaging to my sense thy varied strange suggestions, Thy troops of white‑maned

little red-headed baby boy—So the contrast—birth & life—just here I receive a beautiful bunch of great white

Trout 30 6 Birds & Birds 16 7 A Bed of Boughs 30 8 Birds nesting 10 9 The Halcyon in Canada 44 10 A White

He was a heart's ease growing in the shadow: the leaves are turning white from want of sun!

following grippe, over 50, has had a funeral ceremony & burial to-day—I sent a little ivy woven anchor & white

The weather lately is heavenly—just pleasant temperature, pure blue sky with a white cloud floating here

It is now afternoon—perfect weather—cool, bright, white fleecy clouds on every hand, a gentle breeze

While I write, the snow is falling; so softly, so softly, come its pure white flakes!

White. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1988. Gibson, Ian. Federico García Lorca: 2.

discharge her "darkey": "she got so lazy she was worse then nobody. last thursday I got another girl (a white

William White [New York: New York University Press, 1978], 1:76 n232).

Rechel-White, "Holmes, Oliver Wendell (1809–1894)," (Walt Whitman: An Encyclopedia, eds. J.R.

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

William White [New York: New York University Press, 1978], 513–514).

MartinBidneyBlake, William (1757–1827)Blake, William (1757–1827) Introspective psychological mythmaker

and political as well as cosmic visionary, poet-artist William Blake wrote and illustrated verse of

Blake, William. The Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake. Rev. ed. Ed. David V. Erdman.

William Blake and the Moderns. Ed. Robert J. Bertholf and Annette S. Levitt.

Blake, William (1757–1827)

Lawrence I.BerkoveHowells, William Dean (1837–1920)Howells, William Dean (1837–1920) William Dean Howells

The Realist at War: The Mature Years, 1885–1920, of William Dean Howells.

The Road to Realism: The Early Years, 1837–1885, of William Dean Howells.

Howells, William Dean. Selected Literary Criticism, Volume 1:1859–1885. Ed.

Howells, William Dean (1837–1920)

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

How beautiful its clusters of pink and white blossoms are, and how delightfully fragrant!

The squirrel cups vary in color, some being white, others pink, and others still bluish or lilac-colored

waves—In such, 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!

Bring down those toss'd arms, and let your white hair be; Here gape your great grand-sons—their wives

I would sing how an old man, tall, with white hair, mounted the scaffold in Virginia; (I was at hand—silent

ah my woolly white and crim- son crimson ! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!

in toward land; The great steady wind from west and west-by-south, Floating so buoyant, with milk-white

(A Reminiscence of 1864.) 1 WHO are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human, With your woolly-white

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

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

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

Amy M.BawcomVan Velsor, Naomi [Amy] Williams [d. 1826]Van Velsor, Naomi [Amy] Williams [d. 1826]Affectionately

known as "Amy," Naomi Williams was Whitman's maternal grandmother.

in section 35 of "Song of Myself," Whitman recounts a tale involving Amy's father, Captain John Williams

Van Velsor, Naomi [Amy] Williams [d. 1826]

With love believe me Yours Talcott Williams T. Williams Mrs T.

Williams Talcott Williams to Walt Whitman, [22 April 1888]

You will see that the spot at the left side of the hair, near the temple, is a white blur, and does not

Frank Williams did not get in The American this week after all.

Added, "When Anne came in Frank Williams was here.

Spielmann's Black and White of March 16th addressed curiously to W. as "poet" at "Boston USA."

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

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

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

Give us one thing or the other, gentlemen—black, if you will, or white if you will—but not the mulatto

You will see that the spot at the left side of the hair, near the temple, is a white blur, & does not

put yourself out to get it )—As I write the sun is shining bright & clear as can be—the ground is white

a fine house across the way from Hospt No 3, where the Surgn Steward and women stop it has a large white

Suspicion of more strength in me—splendid effect f'm electric light shining in on big bunch of snowy white

White's, & unlock the big trunk, (the one that is strapped) and take out My gray suit , coat, vest, &

(he is shot in the ab- domen abdomen ;) I staunch the blood temporarily, (the youngster's face is white

David BreckenridgeDonlonThayer, William Wilde [1829–1896] and Charles W.

Eldridge [1837–1903]Thayer, William Wilde [1829–1896] and Charles W.

The firm also published Echoes of Harper's Ferry (1860), by James Redpath, and William Douglas O'Connor's

Thayer, William Wilde. "Autobiography of William Wilde Thayer." Unpublished manuscript, 1892.

Thayer, William Wilde [1829–1896] and Charles W. Eldridge [1837–1903]

at the door of our room—which served both as dining and sitting room—was answered by my husband, William

The landlord was consulted, the room could be rented, and on the return of Walt and William from the

It was soon after that Whitman's old friend, William Swanton, who was war correspondent for one of the

Even so remote and unheard-of a subject as the white beard of Secretary Welles—then Secretary of the

William Henry Channing was living. They had often asked us to bring Whitman, and he and Mr.

. * * * I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-haired shadow, roaming

Stevens street, near Fifth) is a still, Philadelphia-looking quarter, of long rows of brick houses with white

marble door-steps and white wooden shutters, in one of which, at a street corner, Whitman has taken

The poet now dresses in gray clothes, matching well with his hair and beard, and wears a white scarf

Who are you, dusky woman, so ancient, hardly human, With your wholly-white and turban'd turbaned head

SherwoodSmithRossetti, William Michael [1829–1915]Rossetti, William Michael [1829–1915]One of Whitman's

most important European editors, critics, and supporters, William Michael Rossetti, brother of Dante

Rossetti, William Michael. The Diary of W.M. Rossetti, 1870-1873. Ed. Odette Bornand.

Selected Letters of William Michael Rossetti. Ed. Roger W. Peattie.

Rossetti, William Michael [1829–1915]

Talcott Williams over. Did not see W. Gilchrist came later: was in bedroom a few minutes.

But then, where is there anybody like William?

William made short work of the hair splitters.

Chadwick got on the wrong field when he called William a liar and crossed blades with him: William gave

Yes: that 'sthat's William—the undaunted William: the fiery friend and lover."

to life, enters the zone of elegy—thepoetworkingthroughtheimagery(“Thisgrassisverydarktobefrom the white

However, when these same editors joined forces with Arthur Golden and William White to produce the VariorumofLeavesofGrass

the coffin—I draw near; I bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.

father of American poetry, the white-bearded, white-haired, whitepoetwithanamethatisdefinedinRamblesamongWords

William White, 3 vols. (New York: New York University Press, 1978), 3: 669.

White and beautiful are the faces around me…the heads are bared of their fire- caps firecaps — The kneeling

Examine these limbs, red, black, or white… they are very cunning in tendon and nerve; They shall be stript

She sits in an arm-chair, under the shaded porch of the farm house— The sun just shines on her old white

little islands, larger ad- joining adjoining islands, the heights, the villas, The countless masts, the white

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

on the cold ground, with forehead between your knees; O you need not sit there, veil'd in your old white

bay to notice the vessels arriving, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white

pennants, The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot- houses pilot-houses , The white

pass up or down, white-sail'd schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations!

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 I call to you my love!

bay to notice the vessels arriving, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white

pennants, The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot- houses pilot-houses , The white

pass up or down, white-sail'd schooners, sloops, lighters! Flaunt away, flags of all nations!

, glittering with mica and newly arrived from Connecticut, and here lay small hillocks of the snow white

Then came the door plates with their dark grounds and white letters, and very familiar looked the interesting

We fear that there were more than sufficient “numbers” for church-pews, done in nice white and gold letters

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!