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"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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

I can never answer my own question—never make up my mind.

I almost think if I had to ask fulfillment, the rock, now my saviour, my peace, would be my wreck, my

him he is often in my thoughts as I sit here in my den."

My purse and my heart are yours!" or to that effect.

Long have I kept my road—made my road: long, long!

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

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

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?

O I cruise my old cruise again!

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

long stretch of my life.

my senses and flesh, My body done with materials, my sight done with my material eyes, Proved to me

this day beyond cavil that it is not my material eyes which finally see, Nor my material body which finally

O I cruise my old cruise again!

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

long stretch of my life.

my senses and flesh, My body done with materials, my sight done with my material eyes, Proved to me

this day beyond cavil that it is not my material eyes which finally see, Nor my material body which finally

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

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!

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

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

But, my dear comrades, I will now tell you something about my own folks—home here there is quite a lot

of us—my father is not living—my dear mother is very well indeed for her age, which is 67—she is cheerful

Often they hit each other, then there is a time— My loving comrades, I am scribbling all this in my room

in my mother's house.

, & I pray God to bless you, my darling boys, & I send you all my love, & I hope it will be so ordered

My relations with the boys there in Washington had fatherly, motherly, brotherly intimations—touched

I don't seem to be able to stand it in the present condition of my body'" (3:110–111).

And the gentle creature blushes at my protestations of love, and leans her cheek upon my neck.

"My brother, thus have I lived my life. Your look asks me if I have been happy.

"My brother, a maiden's tears washed my stern resolves away.

Various fortune followed my path.

But I can lay my hand upon my heart, and thank the Great Master, that the sunshine has been far oftener

My employer, Mr.

Andrews, had become so well satisfied with my performance of my duties, that he advanced me somewhat

above my original situation.

my duties during the day.

of my employer's honesty.

—A dusky mist spread itself before my eyes.

I wandered far, far away from my then and there existence.

scenes long since past, and faces that may never more greet my view.

—I saw every particular tree, and hill, and field, my old haunts.

—This is what I dread: for I have not enjoyed my young time.

I have thought of you, my darling boy, very much of the time.

I have not been out of the house since the first day after my arrival.

of, insulting to you, never for one moment in my thoughts.)

Dear Pete, dear son, my darling boy, my young & loving brother, don't let the devil put such thoughts

I will write again before long—give my love to Johnny Lee, my dear darling boy, I love him truly—(let

Or it may be my words have led you to do me some kind of injustice in thought,—& then I could defend

only might, but ought, on pain of being untrue to the greatest, sweetest instincts & aspirations of my

own soul, to answer it with all my heart & strength & life.

out life giving warmth & light to my inward self as actually as the Sun does to my body, & draws me

to it and shapes & shall shape my course just as the Sun shapes the Earth's.

Belmont Mass Oct 20 '88 My dear W.W.

Mrs K. is in Boston at a Symphony Concert and a precious ½ hour for my soul being at my disposal I feel

We are rolling out 90–100 books at once, & every page must pass under my eye twice & receive my fecit

before it goes out,—my guarantee.

I must stop & copy a page or so (my daily stint) of my Whitman bibliography (sawdusty job rather, but

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

The bad spells in my head continued at short intervals all through Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

ready to have them, and pretty sick and sore and bad, especially in head, confusing me, and affecting my

I have rewritten my Will, with some slight changes and additions, and placed it in the pocket of my trunk

here. … Ate my breakfast like a man this morning.

My eyes gave out before through. . . .

I look forward to my visit abroad with great expectation. "My health?

My income is just sufficient to keep my head above water—and what more can a poet ask?

of my life.

Sometimes I think my Western experiences a force behind my life work. "Also the battlefield?

"My idea of a book? A book must have a living vertebra to hold it together. "My religion?

My head has some bad spells, & a touch or more nearly every day, & my locomotion is still as clumsy as

am happy in not having any of those spasms of three weeks since, & indeed I have glimpses again of my

Louis, from my brother Jeff—I am very fond of it for breakfast, can eat it every day—(My appetite is

my love to Wash Milburn—I am writing this up in my room, 3 o'clock, pleasant weather, sun shining, window

Good bye for this time, my loving boy. Walt. Walt Whitman to Peter Doyle, 24 October [1873]

Dec: 3 '88 This is the title-page of a small ed'n of Nov: B . in Scotland I tho't might amuse you —My

concise examination—It has resulted the last four nights in quite no sleep, wh' is a pretty bad factor in my

big chair by the fire, the stove—it is sharp & cold, bright & sunny—Ed Wilkins (my young Kanuck, my

nurse & helper, Dr B. sent) has just come in to tell me the result of an errand—& so monotonously my

thread winds on— My friends Mr & Mrs: Harned have a new: born son —every thing working well—poor Dave

letter came in the noon mail & I will write a few lines—Glad to hear little Susie is well & send her my

bring the chicken for me—it will be acceptable—Herbert was here this forenoon but did not come up to my

(painting most likely) on the carpet—at any rate I tho't he looks hearty & well—I am still kept in my

I almost doubt if I ever will—weakness extreme—I have sold the mare & phæton—I sold her for a song—my

and one big 900 Vol. to contain all my works—you shall have them, when ready—Harry too—I send my love

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to

soul's passionate yearning toward thy divine Soul, every hour, every deed and thought—my love for my

children, my hopes aspirations for them all taking new shape new height through this great love My Soul

Oh for all that this love is my pride my glory.

My soul must have her loving companionship everywhere & in all things.

I am yet young enough to bear thee children my darling if God should so bless me.

England Nov r 7 th , 1891 My Dear Walt Whitman, I send you my best thanks for your kind p.c. of Oct 27

I much regret to hear of your "bad spell" & send you my warmest sympathy & my best wishes for its speedy

I haste this to you in the hour between my morning & my afternoon's round of visits.

My heart's best love to you always, Johnston Kind regards to all.

my most precious possessions.

Whitman's preface was also included in Good-Bye My Fancy (Philadelphia: David McKay, 1891), 51–53.

Whitman, late in life, said to Horace Traubel: "[I] take my Ruskin with some qualifications."

328 Mickle street Camden New Jersey May 24 '85 My dear Watson Gilder I am in about my usual general health

(which is nothing to brag of) but my locomotion is worse—had a fall a month ago & turned my ankle in

, & at my age one dont recover from such things—Have no thought of coming to New York—If I did so, I

Walt Whitman Were the artist to visit Philadelphia I would sit to him here in my own room—good place

Good-Bye My Fancy! GOOD-BYE MY FANCY! GOOD-BYE my Fancy! Farewell dear mate, dear love!

going away, I know not where, Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again, So Good-bye my

Now for my last—let me look back a moment; The slower fainter ticking of the clock is in me, Exit, nightfall

—now separation—Good-bye my Fancy.

my Fancy.

Forest Hill April 19/61 My Dear Walt.

True I might not prove strong enough for much hard work but I could fire my gun once and die, for my

My dear Walt I am not yet conquered .

I have everything external to crush me and stinging poverty to freeze my heart, but my day is coming

God bless you my dear man.

As I approached my nineteenth year, my uncle, who was an honest and worthy man, evidently felt that he

money, which I felt sure he must have cramped himself to bestow on me, I made my adieus to my aunt and

sorrowful cousins, and went my way.

city where I was to take up my abode.

Yes, here I had come to seek my fortune!

do not procreate like men; all of them and all existing creeds grows not so much of God as I grow in my

moustache, And I am myself waiting my time to be a God; I think I h shall do as much good and be as

pure and prodigious, and do as much good as any; — And when my do, I am, do you suppose it will please

wriggles through the world mankind and hides under helmets and it is not beloved never loved or believed.— My

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

sings as well as I, because although she reads no newspaper; never learned the gamut; And to shake my

The first lines of the notebook poem were revised and published as "My Picture-Gallery" in The American

May 20 th /73 My dearest Friend Such a joyful surprise was that last paper you sent me, with the Poem

& by thoughts you have given me blent in & suffusing all: No hope or aim or practical endeavour for my

For there is not a line nor a word in it at which my spirit does not rise up instinctive and fearlessly

draught that I know is for me, because it is for all—the love that you give me on the broad ground of my

Good bye my best beloved Friend. Annie Gilchrist.

Whitman referred to Rossetti's edition as a "horrible dismemberment of my book" in his August 12, 1871