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Camden 11 am Tuesday My friend J. M. S. (for so I would have it) Yours just rec'd.
My impression is that tho' putting (for most part) a good face on things W. is really in a pretty bad
All most welcome—My arm gets on well, am beginning to sleep pretty well again without any sedative Am
letter to Whitman's disciple and biographer Horace Traubel: "I had a fall last evening and dislocated my
Reprinted in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).; Our transcription is based on a digital image of a microfilm
This expresses the mere fact, so far as I can read my inner self, though perhaps my own industry in life
, on the lines of author mainly, may not seem to corroborate my statement."
that he wants to use the photos for his "forthcoming little (2d) annex," which would become Good-Bye My
Jany 9. 1891 My dear Walt Wish you a Happy New Year, and take it in your new tomes and the "Old Gray
By the way in my file of the Sat.
I am living permanently here (that is to say in the old Phalanx near Redbank) and my brother is with
Camden P M Jan: 8 '91 Personal | My dear J M S If we are going into this thing my notion is to do it
My suggestion w'd be (if you feel to give space enough) to print after that "personal memoranda" of mine
signed by its author's name (now that O'Connor and Mrs: Gilchrist are dead those three are perhaps my
yesterday morning to receive your kind post card of Dec br : 23 rd , & I thank you for it with all my
nerves, which is very slow to quit, & which, while it lasts, prevents me from doing any thing beyond my
And I trust that in good time, & by God's help, I shall be able to do so—perhaps all the better for my
Meanwhile, it is my proudest & dearest privilege to write to you, & to shew you something—(if nothing
better) of a love which is as that of a son, & of the gratitude & homage due to my greatest benefactor
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
I am totally paralyzed, f'm the old Secession wartime overstrain—only my brain volition & right arm power
New England Magazine in June (3:570–71), and a portrait of the poet along with a review of Good-bye My
O'C to publish —Cold & sunny to day here—I have buckwheat cakes for my breakfast & mutton & rice stew
Whitman's preface was also included in Good-Bye My Fancy (Philadelphia: David McKay, 1891), 51–53.
The preface was included in Good-Bye My Fancy (Philadelphia: David McKay, 1891), 51–53.
forward hopefully to many a good hour with you yet when the success of the meter shall have loosened my
hands and my feet from some of the restraints that are now upon them.
My arm gets on finely, am at office every day, eat & sleep fairly well Love to you R M Bucke hand to
letter to Whitman's disciple and biographer Horace Traubel: "I had a fall last evening and dislocated my
—have sent word to Dr B[ucke] —Matters going on much the same with me as of late—as I write sit in my
My friends Can you use this in the Critic ?
54 Manchester Road Bolton Lancashire, England January 3 rd 1891 My Dear Old Friend, I must thank you
should kindly think of me & write me such a tender & loving note, and I thank you from the bottom of my
The other day I received a letter from Mrs Harrison of Bideford to whom I sent a copy of my "Notes"—she
will probably write to you By the way it may amuse you to know that in consequence of the extent of my
bring this letter to an end by again expressing the hope that you are keeping better & sending you 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
enclosed —Houghton & Co. are to publish her book, in the way you will see—all well—no particular news—made my
porridge, a bit of cold turkey & cup of tea—am sitting here at present as usual—rec'd a good letter f'm my
my neice Jessie in Saint Louis (superior girl, sensible, intuitive, a little reticent, undemonstrative
foreign and domestic—Ab't noon as I send this off & sun looks fine out, but I suppose rather too cool for my
Whitman's preface was also included in Good-Bye My Fancy (Philadelphia: David McKay, 1891), 51–53.
and his brother Harry were the sons of Henry Whireman Fritzinger (about 1828–1881), a former sea captain
Davis, Whitman's housekeeper, who had also taken care of the sea captain and who inherited part of his
again but the wheeling is good and the weather clear and charming I am going out for a drive in an hour my
letter to Whitman's disciple and biographer Horace Traubel: "I had a fall last evening and dislocated my
Am sitting here in my 2d story room same— affectionate uncle Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Jessie Louisa
Thirty-one poems from Whitman's book Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) were later printed as "Good-Bye my Fancy
For more information see Donald Barlow Stauffer, "'Good-Bye my Fancy' (Second Annex) (1891)," Walt Whitman
Houghton, Mifflin, 1892), for which Whitman wrote the Preface (which he later included in Good-Bye My
We mean Walt Whitman's "Good-bye my Fancy."
rhythmical prejudices, will hold its own with "Crossing the Bar," or the epilogue to "Asolando": Good-bye my
going away, I know not where, Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again, So good-bye my
—now separation—Good-bye my Fancy.
my Fancy. C . Review of Good-bye My Fancy
152yal.00146xxx.00866Walt Whitman's Last—Good-Bye My Fancy1891prose1 leafhandwritten; A draft of Walt
Walt Whitman's Last—Good-Bye My Fancy
treatise on the theory behind Leaves of Grass, which includes a plug for Whitman's latest work, Good-Bye My
It was reprinted in Good-Bye My Fancy in 1891, with the additional note: "General Sheridan was buried
The Pallid Wreath, which was published in the Critic 18 (10 January 1891) and reprinted in Good-Bye My
leaveshandwritten; Lightly revised printer's copy of For Queen Victoria's Birthday, which was published in Good-Bye My
, a poem first published in Good-Bye My Fancy in 1891. On, on the Same, ye Jocund Twain, Manuscript
leafhandwritten; Draft fragment of a note for the short poem An Ended Day, which was first published in Good-Bye My
OV 2Good-Bye My Fancy (1891), Manuscript draftloc.05458xxx.00459Good-Bye My Fancy1891poetryprintedhandwritten14
leaves; Manuscript and corrected print material that was included in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).
Good-Bye My Fancy
New Year's Day 1891 My Dear Mr Whitman I can not let the New Year go by, without wishing you "A Happy
Through this year just gone I have come to count you my dear friend.
Since I found my beloved Socrates no one has spoken such sane and manly words to me as you.
with countless cartridges of money coming up, and of endless change going down—to none of these were my
or forbidden; and, of all men in Philadelphia, he it was whom I most desired to see and to thank for my
In a strong round hand he inscribed my name in the volume we had discussed, gave me some precious pictures
WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D . . . 255 O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . 262 HUSH'D BE
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my Captain!
my Captain!
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
or "To the Leaven'd Soil they Trod," Or "Captain! My Captain!"
Leaves of Grass (1891) COME, said my Soul, Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That
Ever and ever yet the verses owning—as, first, I here and now, Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my
Besides, is not the verse-field, as originally plann'd by my theory, now sufficiently illustrated—and
—(indeed amid no loud call or market for my sort of poetic utterance.)
defiance, to that kind of well-put interrogation, here comes this little cluster, and conclusion of my
collated, it is worth printing (certainly I have nothing fresh to write)—I while away the hours of my
72d year—hours of forced confinement in my den—by putting in shape this small old age collation: Last
I had my choice when I commenc'd.
My Book and I—what a period we have presumed to span!
my own distinctive era and surroundings, America, Democracy?)
I felt it all as positively then in my young days as I do now in my old ones; to formulate a poem whose
But my volume is a candidate for the future.
the title of a Book, the title or description of which is in the following words, to wit: GOOD-BYE MY
work, books especially, has pass'd; and waiting till fully after that, I have given (pages 423-438) my
As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before
Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my
And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?
my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to
BEGINNING MY STUDIES.
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)
To rise thither with my inebriate soul! To be lost if it must be so!
songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.
was still ringing little bells last night under my ear.
voice, approach, Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body
SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.
O blossoms of my blood!
EARTH, MY LIKENESS.
WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?
THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.
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.
do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
Loud I call to you, my love!
who I am, my love.
Hither my love! Here I am! here!
But my mate no more, no more with me! We two together no more.
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
with bends and chutes, And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri, The
My limbs, my veins dilate, my theme is clear at last, Banner so broad advancing out of the night, I sing
VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day
WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests
Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O CAPTAIN! my Captain!
O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!
my Captain!
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse
But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
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.
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
side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4
Softly I lay my right hand upon you, you just feel it, I do not argue, I bend my head close and half
my special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!
lengthen- ing lengthening shadows, Prepare my starry nights.
my city! ALL IS TRUTH.
WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE.
Then my realities; What else is so real as mine?
rais'd by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my
, Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring, Or withdrawn to muse
place with my own day here.
My comrade!
my intrepid nations! O I at any rate include you all with perfect love!
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes
My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries
My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets