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This suggested my remark: "Garland asked that you send an autograph copy to Howells."

I wrote down what came into my head at the time—what then seemed required."

"No—I had my doubts the other night but they were only momentary doubts.

My surprise is, how they can receive me?

Your book, always to be handed down and transferred by my clan, reached me on my fifty-fifth birthday

My main impulse was to authoritatively clap it down forever that this was my love for William and by

But to my impression that Burroughs seemed to shrink from both Ingersoll's and O'Connor's "violence"

W. said, "Chances are against my going," but I was "to order" if I thought best, and Wallace could go

W. laughed with great heartiness, rolling his head round on the pillow my way, "That's so—Whitman don't

W. had said, "Give them all my love there—the baby and all. Yes, my dearest love.

"I put my name in all," he explained, "yet in one or two it already appears several times.

I left with him a copy of New Ideal containing my paper on Parker and Johnson.

"It does my eyes good—is handsome." Had laid out American for me.

"You know—I pride myself on my inclusiveness—that I embrace everybody—and that must stand."

My friendships are my own—for Ingersoll or another.

Dear as the principle of free trade is to me—near as it is to my heart—fully as I am convinced that in

And when I said: "Walt Whitman at 70" was one of my suggestions of a title, he said: "Yes, that is very

I asked if he wished a set of sheets of my own little book. "Oh yes! and then I can write Dr.

"I have told you I knew Stedman at Washington—he had my position before me.

When the Secretary of the Interior cut my head off—I went over to the Attorney General's office—took

Still, I know my own condition—don't need him to tell me about that—can't be fooled."

He still insisted: "I know my condition better than any doctor."

I fell to-nighttonight—had a cup of water in my hand."

He is as dear to me as my old clothes!"

W. waited for my reply. I said some things.

There's a doubt in my mind! Indeed I had forgot the book—it is not sent.

I find that I am large—that all my meannesses and doubts have dropped off." "Oh! that is noble! Oh!

And several times he declared, "You have opened my eyes to the best future I can see for the 'Leaves.

Indeed, I think my own Lincolnism was a good deal the result of William's pressure—Gurowski's.

That has been my own experience.

I don't know what it indicates—but my spirit is getting into rebellion.

Repeated to W. the purport of my discussion with McKay.

W. instantly said, "No, my disposition is immediately to say no, to negative him.

I have waited long and long and long to pronounce my determination.

O'Connor has called my attention to this: Washington, November 24, 1868. My dear Mr.

the following, which Morris gave me as "the only part" of his letter from Sarrazin not contained in my

Said to me very quickly after my coming: "I have had visitors today—several.

And to my doubting—"It was the man Arnold, from England—Edward Arnold, author of 'Light of Asia'—you

Called my attention (though it was not needed, the room so fragrant) to a cluster of woodbine on the

Nothing that I can read seems to change my opinion of Carlyle.

The morning after my return some wretch poisoned my dog and the loss has quite upset me.

Alcott praised my Emerson piece, but Sanborn appeared not to know anything about my writings.

I did not feel like calling on him of my own motive. Alcott said he was well.

He evidently wanted to pitch into my Eagle, but was afraid of the claws.

was the guild feeling—the newspaper guild there, especially the young fellows, were always loyally my

That would nowhere touch my purpose—the impulse by which I made the statement."

enjoying the prospect, I think, and all that comes in its train.Spoke about questioners: "They are my

W. in trying to remember something to tell me, suddenly exclaimed, "My memory is very bad and becoming

He admitted, "Yes, they may be true, but my memory is bad, always has been bad.

Adding, "My memory is more a memory of impressions than of facts.

He sat eating and talking during nearly the whole time of my stay.

my preference.

But neither do some of my friends understand my love for the prairies—my statement, insistence, that

But I understand why I make my claim—I know—I see its justification—its necessity.

Fixed up my Gutekunst picture for me as I waited.

yesterday—"but only a very little—a shade better: though, as you understand, a little is a great deal in my

Linton once used his portrait in a book he prepared for Bohn—asked my permission, which I granted.

The minutes to a man in my straits are golden.

I seem to have only one thing in mind—only one: the book, the book, only the book—and you, who are my

"Yes I did: I never gave my assent to any abbreviated editions which I didn't live to regret.

And I intended writing Tom a little note about it—to give him my thanks."

But say, also, that my friends hardly understand—some of them—the real severity of my bladder trouble

I have had to revise several of my notions about photos.

But, Horace, the picture attracts me—puts blood into my old corpus!"

And oysters are my dish. Think of them—their best specimens!

It appears to me, or was my impression, that he belongs or belonged to New England, was a Bostonese."

But he added to this after a pause, "Although my copy would not satisfy the dilettante writer or reader

In fact, all my study is to put and keep the printer on his feet.

I am not decided yet whether to include this in my 'Annex.'

How many's the argument I had on this very point with my friend Mrs.

I could never do that—my whole make-up is opposed.

seventy-first year—to review my habits.

W. then added with a laugh: "That is a part of my quarrel with Horace here about Emerson.

Davis—"My friend"—he called her—and to Ed also, in a similar phrase.

He put Carlylean fire into my mouth—made me saturnine: said things for me I didn't say for myself.

I know I am different: there is no smell of preparation about my conversation: I would disdain that.

I called Billy and said: 'I'm nearly tired to death: take me somewhere—anywhere: take me to my room.'

He was born and raised in my town, and is well known as a literary man, and to me and to the citizens

"No—the alternative is enough to make me shudder: I'll have to go unsworn until something worthy of my

He told me he could not understand my extreme admiration for Walt Whitman.

But my shock was with Mrs. Costelloe.

It carries out my, our, idea, as we formed it from your letter.

O my! They are as hearty as any set I was ever led into!

And you, Bucke, did you get all my letters?"

W. in his room writing what I found to be some more notes for my use in magazine article.He returned

The book startles me into my old fear that someday perhaps the whole country will groan to Emersonism

They are totally genuine—we could say of them what Gilder said of my poetry—that they stand specifically

All the fellows of any value put the brakes down—all of them: among my personal friends I know of no

Even my dear mother long ago saw that, for she said to me there were two things I could never do and

And every time I read that piece I grow in my perception of the capaciousness, amplitude, of the man.

Said to me concerning it: "It marks a new epoch in my life: another stage on the down-hill road."

W. said: "A Symonds letter is a red day for my calendar. This is one of them—an old letter."

My dear Sir.

My dear Mr.

My letter from him seems wholly sincere.

He is my key—sometimes daily—intellectual consultant for the project.

The project has become central to my scholarly life (in that it has become the most time consuming and

important of my projects).

From My Last Years

27From My Last Years (1876).

A.MS. draft.loc.00199xxx.00494From My Last Yearsabout 1876poetryhandwritten1 leaf23.75 x 13.75 cm; A

draft of From My Last Years written in ink on a sheet of stationery, with three lines crossed out with

From My Last Years was published only once, in Two Rivulets, 1876. From My Last Years

27From My Last Years (1876).

Printed Copiesloc.04092xxx.00494From My Last Yearsabout 1876poetryhandwritten1 leaf5 x 13.25 cm; Written

paper cut from the bottom of a larger sheet to which has been attached a clipping of the poem, From My

From My Last Years

Acknowledging that the "death-envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on," "Weave in, My Hardy Life

I were nothing; From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men; From my

The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the woman that loves me, and whom I love more than my

warp and from the woof; (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me, To waft to her these from my

own lips—to effuse them from my own body;) From privacy—from frequent repinings alone; From plenty of

the right person not near; From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting of fingers through my

I were nothing; From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men; From my

The oath of the inseparableness of two together—of the woman that loves me, and whom I love more than my

warp and from the woof; (To talk to the perfect girl who understands me, To waft to her these from my

own lips—to effuse them from my own body;) From privacy—from frequent repinings alone; From plenty of

the right person not near; From the soft sliding of hands over me, and thrusting of fingers through my

I were nothing, From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men, From my

at random, Renascent with grossest Nature or among animals, Of that, of them and what goes with them my

The oath of the inseparableness of two together, of the woman that loves me and whom I love more than my

the right person not near, From the soft sliding of hands over me and thrusting of fingers through my

I were nothing, From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men, From my

at random, Renascent with grossest Nature or among animals, Of that, of them and what goes with them my

The oath of the inseparableness of two together, of the woman that loves me and whom I love more than my

the right person not near, From the soft sliding of hands over me and thrusting of fingers through my

South"—which was first published in theMay, 1890 Century and then included in the second annex Good-Bye My

you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible; Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my

you read these, I, that was visible, am become invisible; Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my

When you read these I that was visible am become invisible, Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my

When you read these I that was visible am become invisible, Now it is you, compact, visible, realizing my

General Philip Henry Sheridan's death (on August 5), and later as Interpolation Sounds in Good-Bye My

There is something in my nature furtive like an old hen!

of my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirection I seek for my own use

I wish to see my benefactor, & have felt much like striking my tasks, & visiting New York to pay my respects

Among the pilots are some of my particular friends—when I see them up in the pilot house on my way to

, and exemplify it," was my candid response.

My acquaintance with 'Leaves of Grass' dates from my early university days some ten years ago, when having

But in my little intellectual life "Leaves of Grass" had been so much to me that I could not meet and

The circumstance passed from my mind but a few days since one of the gentlemen referred to the occurrence

You should see my room.

more, by looking you in the face, recover memories of the past that will refurnish the lost beats of my

Caranne, 153, Boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris. 11 Juillet 1891 Reached Paris, exceedingly tired, but my

Send me papers and works: my permanent address is my uncle's, in the country, as follows: M.

I am now quite used to my new situation, and my opinion, too, is that such a change of base will be something

I was poor, unfit for journalistic work and, nevertheless, wanted to free my intellectual life from pecuniary

In this way I secured my "bread and butter," and, now, can set to my intellectual task; I can read, write

I wish you, dear Walt, a bright and happy new year; be assured of all my love Gabriel Sarrazin see note

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

periodicals, and I would not myself encroach on the space devoted to the work of other contributors; but my

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

"O my brave soul! O farther, farther sail! O daring joy, but safe!

) For that, O God—be it my latest word — here on my knees, Old, poor, and paralysed—I thank thee.

"My terminus near, The clouds already closing in upon me, The voyage balk'd, the course disputed, lost

, I yield my ships to .

"My hands, my limbs, grow nerveless; My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd; Let the old timbers part I will

obliged to you for the trouble you have taken, and deeply interested in the book, for which I shall write my

I presume that my name in the book is in the author's handwriting, if so I shall value it the more.

I sent you yesterday a copy of my paper containing the lecture Keep off the Grass.

The whole edition of my paper is still held at the Post Office awaiting decision from Washington as to

As in my next number I shall have the whole history of this infamous impertinence and audacity in print

I am however loath to intrude my self on public personages— as I know that much of their valuable time