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in my memory as a childish recollection.

No, I have never seen you with my physical eyes, but I feel as though I had, and it is my love for your

May this be my excuse for thrusting my small personality into the path of your Kingly one.

Even my Bible is not so bemarked.

Good bye my master and my friend!

Brooklyn Sunday afternoon July 24 1864 My dear friend Since I last wrote to you my illness has been gradually

much the same as usual—I keep pretty old-fashioned hours, rise early, dine at 1, & go to bed before 10—My

head feels clear & comfortable, & my strength has returned almost, but not quite up to what it was.

I rec'd Nelly's letter, I could not get over to New York that afternoon—Nelly, my dear friend, you must

try to bring [it] out myself, stereotype it, & print an edition of 500—I could sell that number by my

431 Stevens st cor West Camden N Jersey U S America— March 19 My dearest friend, I did not know at all

till supper with my sister-in-law last evening that you had had a conversation with her about, & special

interest in, my pecuniary condition, &c.

room house on it, in which I might live plainly & comfortably the rest of my days—& that is still my

My great wish still is to put up for myself this little three or four room home for the rest of my days

Howard Lake June 28, 1874 My Dear Friend I Receivied received your kind & Most Welcome Letter A Short

Well My Health I But Verry Very little Better But If I Had Stayed In W Va West Virginia dont don't Suppose

when I went In the army I had a Com fortable Home Was a good Lover My Mother Leives Lives In My Father

Not Seen Her For 8 year My Brothers & Sisters Lives too I Will Close My letter By Saying I Hope you

kindness And Care to me My Children Sends their Love to you Now My Dear Friend I Hope you will write

e in my k of yet about might a insane or a drunk man.

I know you must think there has been a "level-headed" theory to my life.)

Your card of July 2 acknowledged my letter of June 27, but didn't mention my letters of June 10 or 12

I think what will please you best, will be for me to write about myself, my circumstances, my practical

My eccentricity lies in my adherence to all Nature my own nature and following the straight path of good

Covering all my lands—all my seashores lining! Flag of death!

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

My sacred one, my mother.

Covering all my lands—all my seashores lining! Flag of death!

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

My sacred one, my mother.

My article was hastily written and, though you do acknowledge my good intentions, must seem very inadequate

my power, of your work and genius.

My friend has his wife and children with him.

I made him acquainted with your works, after my return from America, and it is my own experience he has

property, my farming came to nothing, as I longed to get back to my studies, as soon as I had got well

his January 16, 1872 letter to Rudolf Schmidt, Whitman wrote that Freiligrath "translates & commends my

Friday Nov 13 1868 My dear Brother I have & still suffer so much agony I am like a child I have longed

so for a letter I have seen one to Charlie with a few lines to me If I could see one of my own folks

I dont suffer now, only my hand, the fever is gone my head is clear my mind has not wandered only when

Dr Thayer I believe thinks all my thumb wont won't get well I feel very anxious about it. dear brother

Dear broher I suffered dreadfully last night with my hand the Doctor did not come in yesterday I was

431 Stevens st Street —cor West Camden N New Jersey U S America May 5 '76 1876 My dear friend, Yours

$10 the set—$5 each Vol. can be had separately, or together, as wanted—Each will contain portraits & my

The Two, Leaves and Rivulets comprise my complete works (the latter Vol. as you see, includes Memoranda

I heartily thank my good friends of the Secularist .

with the baby boy, my brother's 6 months infant, very fine & bright, (of course)—takes much of my time

Covering all my lands! all my sea-shores lining! Flag of death!

Ah my silvery beauty! ah my woolly white and crim- son crimson !

Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty! My sacred one, my mother.

My dear friend, Again a few lines to you.

The past summer & fall have laid me up again, & I am now entering the sixth month of confinement in my

I have also a big 900 page Vol. nearly ready, combining all my writings, last revisions, &c.

If so I send him my affectionate remembrances—I am sitting by my oak-wood fire writing this (cold but

Love & thanks to you, my friend, & best best regards to my Irish friends all.

I have already written you my approval of your three communications in the L[ondon] D[aily] News & will

[say] that in my opinion (& now with fullest deliberation reäffirming it) all the points assumed as

I shall (as I see now) continue to be my own publisher & bookseller.

Each book has my autograph. The Two Volumes are my complete works, $10 the set.

works in Two Volumes, with autograph & portraits, or some other of my books.

I have loved you for years with my whole heart and soul.

I am too impetuous; I feel my subject too deeply.

And yet I am a writer and make my living by my pen.

hand your beautiful grey hair, and possibly feel your arm about my waist.

It is nothing to me who sees them; I am proud of my feeling for you.

Mar 9 th 92 7 Taylor Ln— Bolton My Dear Walt Whitman Just a few lines in response to your loving message

How very kind of you to send such tokens of your love to me, tokens which go deep into my. my heart,

My little message will convey my gratitude, my deepest sympathy, and my very best love to you now— and

. / I intend to reach them my hand and make as much of them as I do of men and women" (1855, p. 64).

See in particular the lines: "The supernatural of no account . . . . myself waiting my time to be one

Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.

NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not

in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs; Not in many an oath and promise broken; Not in my wilful and

savage soul's volition; Not in the subtle nourishment of the air; Not in this beating and pounding at my

O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.

Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only Not Heaving from my Ribb'd Breast only.

NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only; Not in sighs at night, in rage, dissatisfied with myself; Not

in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs; Not in many an oath and promise broken; Not in my wilful and

savage soul's volition; Not in the subtle nourishment of the air; Not in this beating and pounding at my

O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself, any more than in these songs.

Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.

NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only, Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself, Not in

those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful and savage

soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my temples

O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these songs.

Not Heaving From My Ribb'd Breast Only. NOT HEAVING FROM MY RIBB'D BREAST ONLY.

NOT heaving from my ribb'd breast only, Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself, Not in

those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs, Not in many an oath and promise broken, Not in my wilful and savage

soul's volition, Not in the subtle nourishment of the air, Not in this beating and pounding at my temples

O pulse of my life! Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these songs.

at times, that I am forced to quit my painting and take to the street: and then she assumes jealousy

, and during my absence ransacks my papers, trunks and portfolios for scraps of poetry, composition of

a date that have past my memory, and these she brings forward and reads to me, and berates me with,

She smells my coat, when I come home, my gloves, my handkerchief and declares that I have been abed somewhere

Half my time is passed in gardening, and portions the rest waiting upon her, from the grocery.

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day

battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my

long-drawn sigh—Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my

chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade—Not a tear

, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death—vigil for you, my son and my soldier, As onward silently

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night, When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day

battle, the even-contested battle; Till late in the night reliev'd, to the place at last again I made my

long-drawn sigh—Long, long I gazed; Then on the earth partially reclining, sat by your side, leaning my

chin in my hands; Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you, dearest comrade—Not a tear

, not a word; Vigil of silence, love and death—vigil for you, my son and my soldier, As onward silently

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day

battle, the even-contested battle, Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my

long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my

chin in my hands, Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade—not a tear

, not a word, Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night; When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day

battle, the even-contested battle, Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my

long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed, Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my

chin in my hands, Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade—not a tear

, not a word, Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, As onward silently

it seems Centuries)—Father used to tell me I was lazy Mother denied it—and in latter years=(but O' my

own pen, ink, and paper on my own table, in a hired room, warmed by my own fire and lighted by my own

friend the past thou occupiest in my spiritual nature—.

I feel assured you will forgive any remissness of me in writing—My love my Walt is with you alway always

My Father is Dead.

My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long

stretch of my life.

is my mind!

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!

My children and grand-children—my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long

stretch of my life.

is my mind!

O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh; O my body, done with materials—my

O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!

earth, she cried—I charge you, lose not my sons!

local spots, and you airs that swim above lightly, And all you essences of soil and growth—and you, O my

; And you trees, down in your roots, to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb—my young men's beautiful

darlings—give my immortal heroes; Exhale me them centuries hence—breathe me their breath—let not an

O my dead, an aroma sweet! Exhale them perennial, sweet death, years, centuries hence.

earth, she cried, I charge you lose not my sons, lose not an atom, And you streams absorb them well,

, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable, And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my

, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my

darlings, give my immortal heroes, Exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not

O my dead, an aroma sweet! Exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence.

earth, she cried, I charge you lose not my sons, lose not an atom, And you streams absorb them well,

, and you airs that swim above lightly impalpable, And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my

, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my

darlings, give my immortal heroes, Exhale me them centuries hence, breathe me their breath, let not

O my dead, an aroma sweet! Exhale them perennial sweet death, years, centuries hence.

Dear Son Pete, Here I sit again by the heater in the parlor, writing my weekly letter—I have just had

my dinner, some cold turkey & glass of Missouri wine &c.

—had been out to the P.O. some five or six squares distant—but have to take my time—Am still getting

is undoubtedly better, which, I hope will in time bring improvement in my walking, & in my head, &c

November 25, they print a portrait of my beautiful phiz. & a criticism on my books, one of the best &

My improvement is not much in the head troubles, & hardly any in my left leg, but very perceptible in

my strength & vim generally— & my confidence remains (still unaffected in the main, by all the tediousness

took, at my own price at once & sent me the money)—They are in type, and I have read the proofs.

So they are off my mind.

Nelly, my dear, I received your welcome letter last evening. I am waiting for the photos of my St.

"They met—this man and my sister.

My sister fell!

"One day my sister was missing.

He accepted my challenge.

I was blinded by my hate for my sister's betrayer.

May 30.1889— My Dear Walt— Let me send my hand & heart to you in this pen-scrawl, bearing loving, reverential

Accept then my love, my hopes of other birthdays, my fraternal & gladsome kiss and word on this birthday

However I offer you my congratulations.

Fraternally & Faithfully yours "Dick" (RJ) Hinton My wife joins me fully. Richard J.

Advertiser Office Boston Aug. 1 1887 My dear Sir: I have lately been spending happy days with my dear

Returning home I found on my table the papers and pamphlet, and photogravure photograph of yourself,

The portrait hangs now on my wall in my little book-lined den at Waltham, where I may see it whenever

I raise my eyes from my work.

With profound gratitude for your especial notice of my faulty work, and a deep sense of obligation for

minnesota Wright Co Howard Lake may 12 1874 Walt Whitman my dear friend I received yours dated April

be good for your the there are some comming coming from the different Stats states for their health. my

friend Whitman I love you when I think of the kindness you shew show to me my heart is swelled with

gratitude to you may the lord preserve you and giv give you a home in heaven my friend i have bin been

in a bad stat state of health for 10 months I have the dropsy of the heart I am getting better & my

At the bottom of the recto of the first leaf we find this passage: My Lesson my Have you learned the

to my bare-stript heart, And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.

Part of my purpose in this coda to my exploration of the poet’s creative pro- cess is to take advantage

or “To the Leaven’d Soil they Trod,” Or “Captain! My Captain!”

Le Baron), mystical experience, 9, 36 165, 265n9 “Oh Captain! My Captain!”

Detroit June 18 th 1880 169 East Elizabeth St Street My Dear Friend— I am greatly obliged for your Book

been exceedingly interested—also I rec'd received the Paper— The hospitals during the War, were in my

could but feel the distress of the homesickness of the poor fellows—when the news came to me, that my

I can stand that—for it would be my own suffering, but I cant endure to think of Percy as wounded in

sorrow not his— I hope that you recd my story of "Leaves of Grass"—I and my family had hoped to have

yours of 16 th —Mine of 17 will have advised you of the situation here, & the general character of my

Charles W Reynell's (No 1. in your transcript) and J Leicester Warren (No 2)—& authorize you or any of my

The whole business requires to be done with perfect candor to my generous friends—to you & the other

New York or Philadelphia banker, payable to my order —(if in Philadelphia, on Drexel & Co. bankers,

, forever falling in my way.

my own rhymes—being assisted in this (perhaps unwise move) by my friends.

May I send you a copy of my book in June?—when it will be safely out. D. V.

MY FRIEND I have a friend who is so true to me, We may not parted be.

away; He is my perfect day.

Thou art indeed my friend while ages roll, O! thou my deathless soul. C. W. S. AT ANCHOR.

Leet Let this be my apology for speaking to you with my heart laid bare—I tried very hard to secure a

copy of your "Leaves", and at last in New York did so, I took the book up and ran my eyes over detached

dear sir, I cannot analyze my feelings, had any one told me that my blood would leap, my soul cry out

I do not know if you will read anything I say, whether my name is a familiar or unfamiliar one to you

I have taken "from your lips" the kiss, and with all my heart and soul return it to you.

I do not know what I carry in my arms pressed close to my side and bosom!

I turn my steps to "Zion's Mill" a cemetery.

My womb is clean and pure. It is ready for thy child my love.

how lovingly will I cherish and guard it, our child my love. Thine the pleasure my love.

My motives are pure and holy. Our boy my love! Do you not already love him?

my dearly beloved walter Walter thank god i feel better this morning i hope i shall be better now my

rheumatism is better in my limbs whether its that or what has affected my head i cannot tell but my head

and my very brain has seemed to be affected but i feel better this morning and hope i shall be better

enough to see to things eddy Eddy is very good boy lately he says he hopes i wont won't die good bie my

Walt's mother had described "a trembling in my whole system" in her May 5–6 letter, and he was alarmed

Louisa Van Velsor Whitman at the onset of this event, presumably a stroke, described "trembling in my

Noumeáa Nouvelle-Calédonie (Colonies Françaises) 3/7 1890 Dear Walt, an important event took place in my

As I have no fortune whatever, and journalism does not suit my temper, I obtained a situation in our

My opinion, too, is that Bruno is one of the martyrs of free thought, one of our martyrs, and one of

On my arrival here I suffered from this Oceanian climate, but am getting better each day and will, no

Morris by this very post; be assured, dear Walt, of all my love Gabriel Sarrazin My address is as follows

reached me, I have to say that I accept the proposal made in it respecting your English publication of my

that you have the privilege of selling that publication in the United States, on payment to me, or my

My book has never been really published here at all & the market is in a sort vacant of supplies.

Accept my thanks for the William Blake .

And now, my dear sir, please accept with my trust in the success of the enterprise my kindest respects

ONE breath, O my silent soul, A perfum'd thought—no more I ask, for the sake of all dead soldiers.

Buglers off in my armies!

At present I ask not you to sound; Not at the head of my cavalry, all on their spirited horses, With

Invisible to the rest, henceforth become my compan- ions companions ; Follow me ever!

Perfume therefore my chant, O love! immortal Love!

W. asked me what was my middle initial, which he has never used in writing my name.

Give my love to all the rest—explain that I am tied down to my chair here—that my head needs to be humored

will should be my sister in law Mrs: Louisa Orr Whitman and my brother George W Whitman (now resident

effects, money, of my house and lot 328 Mickle Street—Also that my said executrix under this will is

Nancy Whitman, my brother Andrew's widow, fifty dollars ($50).In sign of my writing my nameWALT WHITMANall

I do not know but you think me rather neglectful in my writing to you but if you knew the pain that I

have in my head, the whole of the time you would not think hard of me.

Walt—I am sorry that I am as feeble, and that my friends and likewise my Doctor think that I never shall

lying in my pathway and I can not seem to remove them nor hide them from my mind, I have tried to look

I feel she has saved me, in the worst of my sickness she hardly left my room how often have I thought

September 1st 1877 Mr Whitman My dear friend Your letter of May from Kirkwood was duly rec d received

but as I dislike writing letters, & have been pretty busy I hope you will pardon my delay.

I believe I told you in my last letter of my intention to become, if possible, an engineer, My intention

still holds good, but despite all my efforts, I have failed to obtain a situation I suppose the trouble

lies in my not being acquainted with men of that class, so for the present I will have to take things