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I dont don't suppose there Has a day past over my Head without me thinking of you.

Poor Jo Adams Im I'm sorry he is a fine fellow tell him I send him my pies pious regards and hope he

Well Walt I will endevor endeavor to give you a rugh rough scetch sketch of my wanderings since I seen

You know I could not content my self in Phila.

money from the Centennial went down to my sister's she was not at home but Annie, Johnny's Wife was

My dear Sir, Your letter of 22 Novr. reached me the other day thro' Mr. Conway .

I think the most convenient course may be for me first to state the facts about my Selection.

publisher told me that he projected bringing out a selection from your poems, & (in consequence of my

My Prefatory Notice explains my principle of selection to exactly the same effect as given in this present

I had previously given it a title of my own, "Nocturn for the Death of Lincoln"; & in my Prefatory Notice

editorial decisions, which included editing potentially objectionable content and removing entire poems: "My

My Legacy. MY LEGACY.

But I, my life surveying, closing, With nothing to show to devise from its idle years, Nor houses nor

lands, nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends, Yet certain remembrances of the war for you, and after

you, And little souvenirs of camps and soldiers, with my love, I bind together and bequeath in this

My Legacy. MY LEGACY.

But I, my life surveying, closing, With nothing to show to devise from its idle years, Nor houses nor

lands, nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends, Yet certain remembrances of the war for you, and after

you, And little souvenirs of camps and soldiers, with my love, I bind together and bequeath in this

Rossetti, too, has always declared for me, stood by me, staunchly assented my right to my own.

more at home with my old than with my new history—than with affairs I am mixed with (if I mix with any

my eyes."

"I spoke of the defects of my memory, but bad as they are they are not fatal—some ways my memory's as

They remind me of my triumphs and my defeats.

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

of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled and dispel'd, and my

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4

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

of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled and dispel'd, and my

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4

"I do poorly, poorly: this has been as bad a day as any since my sickness began.

The doctor just two hours ago said my pulse was very good—I have eaten my meals today with some relish—so

the trouble don't seem to be primarily with my heart or my stomach.

I always thank my friends for pointing out any oversights that occur in my book.

W. humorously said: "Music is my worst punishment." I asked: "How's that?" "Oh!"

My dear Mr.

To these mostly my habits are adjusted.

This to give you a clearer notion—(and I distinctly wish my friends in England writing about my book

Nothing in my life, nor result of my book, has brought me more comfort & support every way—nothing has

I have sent him my last edition, to care of Ellis & Green.

Writing to Whitman on October 30, 1871, Burroughs said: "Rossetti I am drawn toward, and though my first

What a difference it is with me here—I tell you, Nat, my evenings are frequently spent in scenes that

a few hours a day at copying &c, occasionally write a newspaper letter, & make enough money to pay my

in my room, (have a little spirit lamp) & rub on free & happy enough, untrammeled by business, for I

make what little employment I have suit my moods—walk quite a good deal, & in this weather the rich

love to Fritschy, & Fred Gray—I desire both to write to me—Nat, you also, my dear comrade, & tell me

I threw my valise upon a bench, and my over-coat upon it.

My employer, Mr.

my duties during the day.

knowledge and my memory.

My country relations were not forgotten by me in my good fortune.

Mebbe Maybe no, & mebby maybe yes," quoth my Italian. I sent Mrs.

Davis the Register with report of my modeling in the church.

I fear my hero belongs to an impossible age.

What 'hinders my going over the whole country?

My health is "boss," & I feel like raging about. Keep so, so.

3-12-1890 Walt Whitman, My Dear Friend:— Allow me to express my ineffable gratefulness to you for the

immense delight your "Leaves of Grass" have thrilled me with, in the form of a few of my rhapsodies

under the ban of your warm regards for my poetic productions—(properly belonging to the 21 & 22 centuries

poems, which were received with much pleasure by the public—But they were the poorest specimens of my

work—Had it been otherwise—that is, one of my most select copies,—the people would have recoiled from

minor affairs—sent off Mrs: O'C[onnor]'s letter to me describing the situation wh' you must have rec'd—My

poor dear friend Wm O'C —my brother in affliction—I have been out & had a thorough bath in the tub,

) & complete clothe change, specially under— Saturday 22d—9 a m— Feeling pretty well—& shall tackle my

—yours of 20th rec'd this morning— Noon —cold & bright—bowel movement, decided—(first in four days)—my

brother George comes every day—bro't from Lou a good quilted lap robe to go over my knees & feet as

Brooklyn December 4 1864 My dear friend Your letter of November 30 came safe, & was truly welcome—if

shall come, almost certainly—Then Charles Eldridge is to be transferred to Boston—I am indeed sorry, on my

Mother remains well, & in pretty good spirits, better than I would have expected—My brother George still

remains a prisoner—as near as we can judge he is at Columbia, S C—we have had no word from him About my

book nothing particular to tell—I shall print it myself—also my new edition of Leaves of Grass—Most

Ford & William & Ethel & Arthur Thompson —(The letter—somehow one of the best I ever rec'd—goes to my

hour or two to the river shore when I feel like it—have a good strong young Canadian (Ed Wilkins ) for my

helper & nurse—have just had what I call my currying for the mid-day —& am probably getting along better

than you all might suppose—fortunately my right & left arms are left me in good strength & volition,

& advice to be a sort of public & speechifying dinner &c. in compliment to my finishing my 70th year

Dear Whitman, This note is written beforehand, in expectation of my paying-in tomorrow at a Post-Office

the ￡33.16.6. wh. which I named to you in my recent letter.

The postal order, on my obtaining it, will be enclosed herein, & dispatched to you.

Since the date of my last something further has come in: it will be accounted for at a future opportunity

On 13 Jany I expect to leave London, & stay some four weeks with my family at the Clarendon Hotel, Ventnor

My brain will not solidify."

Well—I don't want to assume my cure." "Why not?

I attribute much of my success in weathering this attack to my good stock—to my father, my mother: indeed

Your Leaves of Grass I keep with my Shakespeare and my Bible and it is from these three that I have got

I never met men in all my experience who caught on so well."

laying off, & of the playing of the band under Schneider and Petrola —also about City RR. men—I send my

sore & ready to have them, almost if I move across the room—I am sitting here, feeling pretty bad, my

feel better, & strong enough to come back to Washington—Still I don't know—I think it best to face my

I will certainly send you word, or telegraph—I will write Monday or Tuesday next—We have moved into my

—My head is feeling very sore & touchy & sensitive—I dont don't go out—I have re-written my will —What

Loud I call to you my love!

am, my love.

Hither, my love! Here I am! Here!

O what is my destination? O I fear it is henceforth chaos!

steadily up to my ears, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

Another post card from you, my dear, kind, old friend on the 2 nd inst —the third I have received from

My best thanks to you for it!

s address upon your first edition (1855) comes off at my house.

Pardon my writing more at present.

My horse is ill so I do most of my round on foot & I am tired tonight.

Houghton, Mifflin, 1891), for which Whitman wrote the Preface (which he later included in Good-Bye My

I am afraid you will think my promise to write to you was not sincere but I have had very little time

to myself for letter writing but now that I have set about to redeem my word I hope it will be welcome

To begin at the beginning of my visit I spent nearly three weeks in New York with Mr. & Mrs.

my visit so far very much.

about and turn my face once more towards Burlington.

"This was made for me by my sister.

my singing years.

Is that to be my good fate?

idea, is still my idea."

"Next to getting out of my room here is to stay in my room and get a letter from William.

Spent a good part of today, like yesterday, up stairs—"in my big arm chair there—God bless my big arm

I have my doubts—minor doubts—but somehow I decide the case finally on my own side.

Howells, James and some others appear to think I rest my philosophy, my democracy, upon braggadocio,

I find that Ingersoll is not altogether my man: does not say all my say for me: that is, is right in

Never had I thought in my days (during my lifetime) to get a spirit (or ghost, none of the expressions

But my chief reliance is on my pen at present.

In the mean time, calmly, toilingly, ohne hast, ohne rast, working away on my literary chef-d-oeuvre,

"Whitman, the Poet of Humanity,"—here in my idyllic, noiseless home-cottage.

Wish I cd could send you some of the pinks, accept my love instead in return for yours, as something

You renovate & cheerify my ethical nature every time I visit you. WS Kennedy.

Camden N J New Jersey Dec December 13—76 '76 Thanks, my dear friend, for your cheery letter, & for your

come on & stay at your house for about a week, if perfectly convenient, & if you have plenty of room—My

(adopted) son, a young man of 18, is with me now, sees to me, & occasionally transacts my business affairs

, & I feel somewhat at sea without him—Could I bring him with me, to share my room, & your hospitality

to time —most of them go to the British Islands— —I see Mr Loag occasionally— Loving regards to you, my

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in this letter), but the relationship

My hope has been frustrated; I am myself a very lonely man without great connecions connections , especially

Therefore my dear friend I can only beg you accept my sincere sympathy with your unfortunate condition

I have myself my considerable lot of difficulties.

In these days I have got a little harbour for my old father and now I am going to marry without fortune

and clinging all my expectations to the incertain uncertain fate of a book, which shall appear in the

Friend witman I now take the plesure of fulfilling my promace of writing to yo hoping to find yo en Joying

good hlth I am not very well i am worse now than wen i got out of bed i tore my wound acoming home the

i have been home i have had the docter and he ordered me to bathe in sider soaky i will hef to have my

better here than they do in washington I find a grate many that donte know me when i arrived in york my

cosin was thare and he brought me to my home it has ben rainy ever since I have been home— give my love

O blossoms of my blood!

face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was con- cealed concealed —Press

CITY of my walks and joys!

my likeness!

, Here I shade down and hide my thoughts—I do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my

1892 Burlington Vt Jan 24 Only a word my darling to say how precious precious your letter is & how much

I feel your thinking of me now, but But my dearest you will be better & then I may write to you you

have my constant prayers & thoughts always. my dear dear brother only get better. there There is are

for you Want to send you so much love and do feel so thankful that you are better The $5 came s afe my

Whitman writes about this in the passage Paumanok, and My Life on It as a Child and a Young Man, published

series of lectures & readings &c. through different cities of the north, to supply myself with funds for my

Calamus 18. p 363 City of my walks and joys!

little you h You city : what do y you repay me for my daily walks joys Not these your crowded rows of

delicious athletic love fresh as nature's air and herbage— —offering me full repa respon ds se equal of my

my own, These repay me—Lovers, continual Lovers continu only repay me.— This manuscript is a draft of

City of my walks and joys

Whitman Camden Dear Sir I trust you will pardon me for intruding upon you—after you read my letter—I

I am oh so very glad—but not so with me—on the contrary I am gradually growing worse—my case is called

I was first attacked in my right eye last Oct. it passed off and in April it again showed itself in the

side of my face roof of my mouth tongue & throat—I can only swallow liquid food. my speech is badly

telling me of Smith and family's removal—which quite put me out too—Nothing very new with me, since my

return—I have not written out for print any notes of my jaunt yet—I am well, considering— —Addington

has sent me a copy of the American edition of his "Greek Poets" —Ruskin has sent to me five sets of my

rec'd received a letter from Mrs Ritter—She speaks of a musical composition of her husband, to go with my

"Two Veterans"—& asks if I am willing it should be published—I answered expressing my consent Walt Whitman

In her letter on January 25, 1880, Anne Gilchrist added this postscript: "Please give my love to John

My dear and great Walt. As you did not come up yesterday afternoon I did not expect you to day.

I could convey no idea to you of how it affects my soul.

I salute you as the poet of my heart my intellect, my ideality, my life.

does not affect me much—it is not near as oppressive here as the Washington heat—I rec'd your letter my

As I write I am sitting in my mother's former room, in her old arm chair—Spend a great deal of my time

Pete, my darling son, I still think I shall weather it, but time only can show— —Mother's death is on

my mind yet—time does not lift the cloud from me at all —I want much to get to the sea-shore, either

So long my darling boy. Walt. Walt Whitman to Peter Doyle, 15–[16] July [1873]

New York Nov 16 My Dear friend Walter I received your letter of the 29 th and was very glad to here hear

from you I am very Sorry to keep you waiting so long for my answer. we have just got done taking account

I am very tired when I get home at night my feet are very sore from the nails sticking up in the heels

like you I send you mine in return I have received the title of Unkle Uncle my sister Josephine has

Crum he weigh weighs ten pounds I am going to get my wages raised after the Holidays father has just

Dear friend, My brother does not get on quite as well as I had anticipated.

Yet I still hold to the judgment in my previous letter.

(Also the first letter soon after my arrival here.)

If my brother does not get worse, & no crisis takes place, I think, (as at present intending) I shall

Nelly, I send you my true love, my darling. Walt.

Brooklyn July 9 1864 My dear friend I rec'd the letters this afternoon, two in the envelope with a note

I had grown worse, quite a good deal, & I was about making up my mind that I would have to stand a good

seige—but yesterday the current changed, & I felt better all day, & in the afternoon went out riding with my

The doctor to-day tells me my throat is markedly better—In my letter to William I told him I had rec'd

can make them out—As to me, I still believe in Grant, & that we shall get Richmond—we have heard from my

Rossetti: Dear Sir & friend; Please accept these copies of my latest edition.

address is still there—(& always, always glad to hear from you, my friend.)

My " Leaves of Grass " I consider substantially finished, as in the copies I send you.

To " Democratic Vistas " it is my plan to add much, if I live.

Indeed, my friend, I wish to hear from you oftener.

431 Stevens St—Camden, N Jersey U S America— Sept 1, '76 My dear friend, At last I am beginning to receive

from the bindery the second batch of my late Two Volume edition (I print 600 copies each Vol.) & send

I am now at last also supplying my English subscribers & friends their Vols.

My letter of June 26, speaking of the situation, the delay in printing this second batch, &c.

My dear little baby-nephew, & namesake, is dead, & buried by the side of my mother, a bitter cup to me—Otherwise

./76 I have had such joy this morning, my Darling—Poems of yours given in the "Daily News" sublime Poems

(one of them reaching dizzy heights) filling my soul with strong delight.

—The days, the weeks are slipping by my Beloved, bearing me swiftly surely to you —before the beauty

deep chords in the human soul when it is the vehicle of a great Master's thought & emotions—if only my

All my heart shall go into them—Take from my picture a long long look of tender love and joy and faith

328 Mickle street Camden Evn'g Nov. 18 '84 My dear friends Your kind letter (Eva's) came this afternoon

every day, I don't go any distance—havn't been away this past summer, only one short trip to Cape May —My

before I shall be unable to get around at all——General health otherwise about the same as usual—Eva, my

affairs—not much sale for my books at present, or for the last fifteen months—Harry your Mother call'd

little most every day—sell a piece once in a while—Maintain good spirits and a first-rate appetite—My

My letters (that of March 17, in which I outline the situation & my wishes—that of 23 d , postal c'd.

It seems singularly malapropos —& in the face of my friends—their efforts there.

I ought to look over your two last letters again, & say something further about the transcripts of my

Send me, at your convenience, the papers that print my things—also any notable criticism or letter, (

Good bye for this time & God bless you my dearest friend.

August 24th 1878 My dear Walt Whitman I am not overfond of letter-writing—rather hate it indeed—I am

As to myself I am pretty well for my time of life—sixty nine on the sixth of this month—but somewhat

troubled about my eyes—for I am not only the shortest-sighted man in England—but have a great black island

However my oculist informs me that I shall not go blind, & bids me as much as possible spare my eyes,

My younger son Lionel (whom you inquire about) was married to the daughter of F.

Camden 1890 Friday PM Oct: 3 —Have just rec'd another good (pretty long) letter f'm my friends in Australia

antipodes, drives deep into me—The wet & cloudy days have pass'd & it is sunny & fine to-day—I made my

breakfast of oysters brown bread & coffee—have sent my big book, your W W, & John Burroughs' Notes,

with a cluster of my portraits all in a bundle by express to Ingersoll, 45 Wall st N Y (as I heard he

literary—but I find (upon second & more deliberate tho't) I have said it as I wanted to ab't Wm O'C & my

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

have a favorable opportunity, by means of a visitor to the hospital, who is now sitting by the side of my

called upon me & given me a few trifles——— Dear friend, I wish you would say to Mrs Rice I send her my

the face of a friend,—I wish you would write me a good long letter, some of you my dear friends, as

a letter from home is very acceptable in hospital——— My diarrhea is still somewhat troublesome, yet I

please put a stamp on & write to me—Please give my love to the friends in the village & tell them I

soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my

Now sound no note O trumpeters, Not at the head of my cavalry parading on spirited horses, With sabres

drawn and glistening, and carbines by their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen!

My handsome tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.)

Perfume therefore my chant, O love, immortal love, Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers

soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my

Now sound no note O trumpeters, Not at the head of my cavalry parading on spirited horses, With sabres

drawn and glistening, and carbines by their thighs, (ah my brave horsemen!

My handsome tan-faced horsemen! what life, what joy and pride, With all the perils were yours.)

Perfume therefore my chant, O love, immortal love, Give me to bathe the memories of all dead soldiers