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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 Son Pete, Nothing very new with me—I continue about the same—my general strength the best it has

—As I write this holding the paper on my lap I am sitting here in the parlor, by the heater—have had

my dinner—drank quite a goblet of wine, which I believe has flown into my head.

I wear my old gray suit, & the old black overcoat,—& when very cold, or stormy my gray shawl—If you should

see me now leaning against Milburn's counter, you wouldn't see any difference from last winter —(but my

good oak fire—Am still imprison'd in the sick room—Keep up spirits pretty fair, but weak as ever in my

friends from seeing me)—& for a month or so I was in a horrible plight—a nuisance to myself & all—but my

here in the room—Mrs Davis has just been in & wishes to send her love to you, & says come up & see us—my

is well, & seems to be well off & satisfied—young Harry Bonsall died there three or four weeks ago—my

sisters at Greenport L I and Burlington Vermont are ab't as usual—my brother & sister Lou are well at

Whitman: "Because you have, as it were, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my

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

March 7: '88 I was really astonished to hear my quondam college mate—young Henry Norman —was the one

I was in the first flush of my enthusiasm for you; had just read you for the first time, & after a while

matter increases my esteem.

Charity, charity, man, I keep saying (& think of my own grievous sins).

I send you a Transcript marked, and also send you my love in unlimited quantities.

HERE my last words, and the most baffling, Here the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- lasting

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

I am not accustomed thus to present my claim to acquaintanceship with writers.

I will believe this also, adding it to my "creed" the "I believes", of my religion which years ago I

I was certain my dear brother would not ask me to read a bad book.

That was my hour of triumph for my poet. For I had heard Mr.

If I were younger I would strive with all my to do something worthy of my worship of your genius, worthy

My paralysis does not lift—I cannot walk any distance—I still have this baffling, obstinate, apparently

My dear friend, your offers of help, & those of my other British friends, I think I fully appreciate,

During my employment of seven years or more in Washington after the war (1865–'72) I regularly saved

a great part of my wages—& though the sum has now become about exhausted, by my expenses of the last

And that is the way I should prefer to glean my support—In that way I cheerfully accept all the aid my

My very dear Friend, Finally I find time and quiet to write you—I beseech you be not angry at what may

on the other hand, to affirm that during this time I had thought it better, influenced, perhaps, by my

duties incidental to my position.

I have just come from my Mother, who, together with my Father, desires to be kindly remembered to you

hopes in the future to have had you & my little girl with me then.

I looked at my muddy boots, my flannel shirt—and then W. exclaimed: "Go!

own satisfaction, for last ten years.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

in my mother's house.

dear comrades, and I pray God to bless you my darling boys, and I send you all my love, and I hope it

"My opinion is that I have no opinion!

My dear Sir,Yours of 27 January, and Leaves of Grass, received.

and therefore my allusion to it.

I had told Dowden of my not having received any reply to my cards or letters and my apprehension that

That's all there is to my hoarding up these records—as you call it.

I have had a bad day—a very miserable bad day: but I notice my bad days often come just before my best

I am more likely any time to be governed by my intuitive than by my critical self, anyhow.

, in my need: who can tell?

To my sister and my father who in these last few days have seen W. for the first time since his present

One of my doctors thinks much of my head trouble the past three months is from the sun.

I have been very feeble—O my!

For one thing, it gives my idea of my own book: a man's idea of his own book—his serious idea—is not

one point, marked my caution very high—seven and over.

Their seven was backed by my experience with myself.

man,' 'my man,' 'my man.'

Whitman said: "I am jogging along in the old pathway and my old manner, able to be wheeled about some

days and in rainy weather content to stay shut up in my den, where I have society enough in my books

I see a good many actors, who seem to have a fondness for my society. The death of George H.

"Tennyson still writes to me, as do Buchanan and my German friends.

"John Burroughs is my oldest literary friend now living.

continues so—yesterday & last night was the hottest—still I slept sound, have good ventilation through my

when I woke up, a thing I never remember to have happened to me before, for I was not disturbed in my

own breakfast in my room & my dinner at a restaurant—I have a little spirit lamp, & always have a capital

on my hand, nor had any dressing for the last five days—Mother, I hope you get along with the heat,

it came right, & give him the men's thanks & my love— Mother, have you heard any thing from Han?

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

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.

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.

Lancashire, England. 15 March 1892 Dear Walt, Just a line or two my dearest friend, my comrade & father

, dearest of all to my soul, to express the triumph & joy & cheer with which I think of you & with which

Outwardly sad enough, but deep within my soul I know that all is well, & that our last words should be

Be it as if I were with you, & here upon the paper I send you one as a token of my dearest love X Wallace

SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

O blossoms of my blood!

EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

O blossoms of my blood!

EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

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

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!”

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

SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

O blossoms of my blood!

WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!

THAT SHADOW, MY LIKENESS.

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.

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

That Shadow My Likeness. THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

THAT shadow my likeness that goes to and fro seeking a liveli- hood livelihood , chattering, chaffering

and looking at it where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But among my

That Shadow My Likeness. THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

THAT shadow my likeness that goes to and fro seeking a liveli- hood livelihood , chattering, chaffering

and looking at it where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But among my

The reason is that my book, which is a little more than half done, does not get along as fast as the

Andy, dear boy, I hope my delay of a few days will not put you out—Write to me, & tell me about the office

, & my friends there.

Don't forward any letters that come after Friday next, but put them in my drawer.

Once more—I send my love to you & all. Walt Walt Whitman to Andrew Kerr, 10 September 1866

Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully

MY LEGACY.

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

I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference

I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure

Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully

MY LEGACY.

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

I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference

I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure