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leafhandwritten; This manuscript contains part of an autobiographical sketch on the composition of Good-bye My

Man's Rejoinder, first published in the Critic 17 (16 August 1890) before being reprinted in Good-Bye My

O'Connor, pub'd posthumously in 1891, which appeared in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891), and in William Douglas

Whitman included this preface in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) as Preface to a volume of essays and tales

It was later reprinted in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891), under the title American National Literature before

reprinted as Some Personal and Old-Age Jottings in the February 28, 1891 issue of The Critic, in Good-Bye My

which was first published in the August 16, 1890 issue of the Critic and later reprinted in Good-Bye My

leafhandwritten; Manuscript notes, heavily revised, apparently for the preface to Whitman's 1891 volume Good-Bye My

before being collected in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891). [Then Another and very grave point]

This is a draft of the essay Whitman later published as American National Literature in Good-Bye My Fancy

bv6tex.00067xxx.00380Good-bye My Fancy: Sail out for Good, Eidólon YachtSail out for good, Eidólon yacht1890poetry1

It was reprinted in Good-bye My Fancy (1891).

It later appeared in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891) and, as part of the Good-Bye my Fancy annex, in the so-called

Critic (titled Shakspere for America) on September 27, 1890, and then included in Whitman's Good-Bye My

It was later published under the title Some Personal and Old-Age Jottings in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891)

Review in November 1890 and later reprinted in the Pall Mall Gazette (17 November 1890) and in Good-Bye My

the recto are prefatory in nature and reflect the spirit of the preface to Whitman's 1891 Good-Bye My

the mullein and the bumble-bee" is on page 36 of the section entitled Gathering the Corn of Good-Bye My

published in Have We a National Literature, (North American Review, 152, March 1891), and in Good-bye My

(first published in 1891), My task (published as part of L. of G.'s Purport in 1891), L. of G.'

s Purport (only the first two lines of the poem of the same title published in 1891), Death dogs my steps

On the verso is a note in Whitman's hand reading "to my 2d & last Annex for L of G."

Was born May 31, 1819, in my father'sfarm-house, atWest Hills,L. I., sailor— on my New York State.

My parents' folks mostly farmers and father'sside, of English — on my mother's,.

hands,my limbsgrow nerveless, My brainfeelrack'd,bewilder'd.

It was for this and for no lesserreason that he was, able to hail Lincoln as "My Captain."

In the " presence of calamity he sobs, as a child, Oh my Captain my Father !"

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, O how shall I warble myself for the dead one

improvement in health or strength either—but I keep pretty good spirits & eat & sleep fairly yet—Have my

Good bye for the present, Ed, & my remembrances & love to you, boy— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Edward

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

Sunday Aug: 4 towards noon —Fine & clear & quiet—feeling fair as usual—cut up peaches, an egg, &c: for my

breakfast—am sitting here alone in my big den—bowel action an hour ago—Mr.

My dear Poet, Walt Whitman.

Possibly my answer to Mr.

In case of the latter, I should have been glad had he thought my name worthy of mention as a friend.

Comes to my mind as I think of the hour When our poet and friends will be lovingly drinking The mystical

But, though absent in body, there's nothing can hinder My tasting the joys of that festive birthday;

Sunday Evn'g Dec: 29 '89 Much the same things &c: continued—feeling dull & stupid—dark bad weather—my

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

me apprehensive—a dollar occasionally would help—have put up 100 feet of new fence (parts) against my

Dont get down-hearted, my boy, say I! We read yr strong verse in November Century.

Whitman's poem "My 71st Year" was published in the November 1889 issue of Century Illustrated Monthly

Walt Whitman, Esq., My dear Sir, I enclose you a map of Harleigh Cemetry, which I though I had sent before

I had a very good time Christmas, went home & helped to eat the turkey, all my sisters & brothers were

So I made up my mind to leave in the fall & go at the Veterinary business which I consider was a wise

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

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

Camden New Jersey U S America Dec: 24 '89 Still (after a sort) hold possession of the ship —but my grasp

growing fainter & my eyes dimmer—Wish to specially write to thank you for kindness —Y'r proof just rec'd

almost nothing from the outside world these times, and am too much occupied to do anything outside my

My first visit to William's grave since last July when I went away.

if I had some one to give me a lift in my work, it would be a boon, but I guess my lesson in life is

let me have ten or Fifteen Dollars have been having pretty hard luck of late and find myself Broke My

I am writing at the desk in my office. It is so dark that I almost need the gas to see to write.

My dear Mr.

year the weather being really too hot in the middle of the day I will not make this letter any longer my

evn'g as usual (always welcome)—he is well—is a clerk in a bank in Phila—Am sitting at present alone in my

I enclose one of my late circulars as it may have a wisp of interest to you.

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

volumes of Horace Traubel's With Walt Whitman in Camden (various publishers: 1906–1996) and Whitman's "My

I clung to the farm & lived alone with my dog, coming down here Sundays & stormy weather.

The old farm where I was born has come back upon my hands & is very embarrassing.

I tried to help my brother through with it, but he has proved unequal to the task & I have had to take

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

1524 Walnut Street Philadelphia My Dear good gray Poet— Ever since I bought the first edition of Leaves

walk with God in the dark, Than go alone in the light; I would rather walk with him by faith Than pick my

"After the dazzle of day is gone, Only the dark, dark night shows to my eyes the stars; After the clangor

of organ majestic, or chorus, or perfect band, Silent, athwart my soul, moves the symphony true" Thomas

Whitman: I give to my good friend Horace Traubel the Sarrazin book which I have had so much pleasure

Bucke anent the American articles—all of which Traubel has probably conveyed to you my gratitude for,

—Am sitting here alone as usual in my den—all right I guess — Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Richard Maurice

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

Sometimes as I read it I feel as if my whole previous life were rolling en masse through me, and as if

call the Ship Yard nearly a mile off & am feeling fairly—Nothing very new—I am sitting here alone in my

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

Dear & honoured Friend & Master I thank you from my heart for the gift of your great book—that beautiful

But my heart has not the power to make my brain & hands tell you how much I thank you.

I cannot even attempt to tell yourself (upon this page of paper with this pen in my hand), what it is

If my health, riven to the bottom like a tree in me, twelve years ago,—& the cares of a family, complicated

reliance on you, & my hope that you will not disapprove of my conduct in the last resort.

of fresh air, have since had a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast and am now (630 P.M.) sitting at my

desk in my office at the Asylum.

Sometimes as I read it I feel as if my whole previous life were rolling en masse through me and as if

Tomorrow I give my 7 th lecture to the students—one more will end the course for this year.

We are all well I send you my best love R M Bucke Richard Maurice Bucke to Walt Whitman, 8 December 1889

— Finest sort of weather, sun, skies &c here days & nights—I was out last evn'g to supper and stopt my

I believe I even blushed a little to find my lines so bravely in evidence.

For my own part, I feel now that concentration is the one thing that I lack.

bad even foul move—& himself a bad & foul move—that's the deep final verdict of America's soul—had my

chair last evn'g & look'd at the full moon & clouds & brightness a long time— Am sitting here alone in my

den—one bunch of flowers on the table at my left & another on the right—& Warren my nurse downstairs

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

howsoe'er, the hearts of toilers struggling here," would perhaps be a better idea than the one suggested in my