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distinctly I comprehend no better sphere than this earth, I comprehend no better life than the life of my

I do not know what follows the death of my body, But I know well that whatever it is, it is best for

I am not uneasy but I shall have good housing to myself, 11* But this is my first—how can I like the

, I suppose the pink nipples of the breasts of women with whom I shall sleep will taste the same to my

lips, But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always near and always divine to me, her true

Ned Stewarts Stewart's —When you write tell Ned I am here in Brooklyn, loafing around—& that I send my

fine—warm through the middle of the day, & cool mornings & nights— I fall in with quite a good many of my

you & me—no women in the house—he is single—he wants me to make my home there—I shall not do that, but

that night—My dear loving boy, how much I want to see you—it seems a long while—I have rec'd a good

loving son, & give my respects to any of the boys that ask about me.

Brooklyn, Friday, July 14. 1867 or '8 Dear Pete, It is pretty much the same with me, as when I wrote my

former letters—still home here with my mother, not busy at any thing particular but taking a good deal

letters that every thing goes on right with you on the road—give my best regards to my friends among

the drivers & conductors—Dear son, I shall now soon be coming back, & we will be together again, as my

Love to you, my dearest boy, & good bye for this time Walt.

perhaps to receive a note from one whose name even you do not know, but I have long had you down in my

heart as one of my friends, and will tell you all about how I came to write to you now.

Last week I had a letter from my friend Miss M. E.

Often when I am reading it I take the words right home to my heart, and feel stronger and better for

friend forever, though I may never see his face, and this must be my excuse now.

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

I have not been my self myself since.

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

I got the Library Table with Blood's sanguinary review of my book.

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

Feb. 27, 1890 Dear Walt: Here I am back from Pokeepsie Poughkeepsie in my little study to-night with

But few of my friends have visited me here, but here I sit by my open fire & have long long thoughts

How many times have I planted you there in my big chair by the window, or here in front of the open fire

Give him my love if you write him. I think I told you we were housekeeping in for the winter.

My winter has been flat stale & unprofitable.

Dear brother, I am here in Brooklyn, New York, spending a few weeks home at my mother's.

I am well & fat, eat my rations regular, & weigh about 200—so you see I am not very delicate.

But the greatest patriot in the family is my old mother.

My room is 456 Sixth street.

But my letters are still addrest care of Major Hapgood, paymaster U S A, Washington D C.

(I suppose you rec'd received my postal card acknowledging your previous one, briefly, & saying I should

I shall quite certainly come on—cannot now [pla]n the time, but will write before—& take up my quarters

mention I should pay thankfully—Though badly disabled, I am perfectly able to take care of myself, & my

Rein —I am alone, in the house to-day, (except Eddy)—as my sister has gone out to spend the day, & my

My brother Jeff, at St. Louis, is well—his girls are growing finely.

mother dear, I am certainly getting well again—I have made a great improvement the last three days, & my

head feels clear & good nearly all the time—& that, the doctor says, will bring my leg all right in

showers here nights—too much rain indeed—still spring is very fine here, & it looks beautiful from my

windows—I am writing this in my room— I am feeling just now well as usual in my general health—part

just as well as ever—but of course I expect a few set–backs before I get well entirely, & supple in my

friend Yours rec'd & welcomed, as always—I send Vol. of "Specimen Days and Collect," with emendations—My

" by Walt Whitman for title page— making two books — But I leave the thing, (after having expressed my

one made there, if you prefer to have your own as you may—Write me often as you can—I am tied up in my

corner by paralysis, & welcome friends' letters—bad cold raw weather—my bird is singing furiously—I

She is an American, & my best friend— Walt Whitman to Ernest Rhys, 2 February 1887

My head does not get right, that being still the trouble—the feeling now being as if it were in the centre

I keep pretty good spirits, however, & still make my calculations on getting well.

They are the rooms in which my mother died, with all the accustomed furniture, I have long been so used

I have written to Harry Douglas, my fellow clerk in the office, asking him to send me my letters here

My lift at the Ashton's was a great help to me—the change from the 15th st. rooms, & then the weather

My thoughts are with you often enough, & I make reckoning when we shall one day be together again—yet

a letter was received by me April 28th, (very pretty written)—but I have not heard whether you got my

I enclosed in it an envelope with my address on, in hopes you would write to me.

There is no particular change in my affairs here—I just about manage to pay my way, with newspaper correspondence

My dearest comrade, I cannot, though I attempt it, put in a letter the feelings of my heart—I suppose

—1865 June 3 My dear Walt I once more send you A few lines to let you know we are all pretty well it

letter to Hanna yesterday but I have not finished it yet but will try too to to day and to morrow if my

head dont don't hurt me I have considerable distress in my head seems to affect my eyes but is better

after I get up in the morning and wash my eyes in cold water matty is very kind to me when I feel well

part I have got pretty short I wish if you can walt you would send me enoughf enough to pay my rent

great ship Minnesota , (big enough for a thousand people)—it was all very enjoyable—the officers all my

last letter in Tribune you will see a ¶ about the , my first visit) I got a letter from my sister yesterday

be having royal times there—Beatrice G[ilchrist] is here—she called on me here—Hank, you speak about my

you— let them read this letter if they care to —I shall probably be back last of next week—come up, my

things very easy—am as well as usual—(have some sort o' bad spells, still)—am all tann'd & red—wear my

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

I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the Body and the Soul—War and Peace have I sung,

And the songs of Life and of Birth—and shown that there are many births: I have offer'd my style to every

one—I have journey'd with confident step; While my pleasure is yet at the full, I whisper, So long!

4 My songs cease—I abandon them; From behind the screen where I hid, I advance person- ally personally

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

I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the body and the soul, war and peace have I sung,

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

My songs cease, I abandon them, From behind the screen where I hid I advance personally solely to you

Remember my words, I may again return, I love you, I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied,

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

I have press'd through in my own right, I have sung the body and the soul, war and peace have I sung,

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

My songs cease, I abandon them, From behind the screen where I hid I advance personally solely to you

Remember my words, I may again return, I love you, I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied,

Camden Sq July 4, 1874 My Dearest Friend Are you well and happy and enjoying this beautiful summer?

life-giving treasure—open on my lap.

My Darling! such patience yet needed along the tedious path!

—Not more spontaneously & wholly without effort or volition on my part, does the sunlight flow into my

My children are all well, dear Friend.

My dear Friend:— I dare to call you my friend because I have read your poetry.

Because there was no reason for my letter unless I told you what was in my heart to tell, and people

I used to think I would be a poet and think if my life had been less crowded out of shape, I might have

Society," and last month was admitted to the bar, and at thirty years of age, I am just starting in my

My brother and I often recite your verses and love their beauty and patriotism.

But my doubts being settled a little I can find occupation, and that will cure my sickening laziness—indeed

several new steps are clearly indicated in my farm operations.

My crop is fair—my renters did so well by high, warm land early planted—my own cotton started off in

My instinct has always been against immortality; this a state of probation &c My idea has always been

I've got my old renter the Methodist (local) preacher on Two Rivulets.

opinion that the 51st is still in Kentucky at or near where George last wrote, but of course that is only my

such a misfortune to have such sickness, & always do any thing for him that you can in reason—Mat, my

little room 394 L st., get my own breakfast there, had good tea this morning, & some nice biscuit, (

They are truly friends to me—I still get my dinner at a restaurant usually.

mind again before me— Mother, did you see my letter in the N Y Times of Sunday Oct 4?

soldier boys should ever call upon you, (as they are often anxious to have my address in Brooklyn,)

I was with him a good deal, & the old man & his wife have written me, & asked me my address in Brooklyn

They will make you cry—There is nothing new with my hospital doings—I was there yesterday afternoon &

, & the house smells clean, & the room too—my old room they just left every thing lay where it was, &

singers are so good—when I come home we'll all try to go — Mother, I am very well—have some cold in my

makes it just right—I have been out just a little, but was glad to get back—I am feeling tolerable, but my

out, in a few minutes' walk—I have had two or three quite good spells this week,—sufficient to arouse my

My appetite still holds out—& my sister cooks very nice, gets me what I want— Pete your letter of 8.

My brother Jeff has been on here this week from St. Louis—got in a car in St.

desk, from what I hear from my substitute —He writes me now & then—does my work very well, & more work

Held a letter gleefully up before my face. "Here is the Whittier," he said: "Take it—be satisfied."

But I, for my part—we—must not play the game with that end in view.

Osler respected my objection." Box of flowers from Charlotte Fiske Bates.

"I do not seem to get the thing very clearly in my own mind: it eludes me."

He said of it: "I have no doubt you are right: I will give the poems my attention.

There is no need that I should pause here to dwell on my meeting with my benefactor Lee, and the shame

with which I acknowledged my guilt, and gave him back his letter.

But great as was my fault, I was hardly prepared for his storm of anger.

: and at the end of a fortnight I left my place.

My little guide crouched down close by my feet—it may be that the knowledge of the presence of death

And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?

O wild and loose to my soul—O wondrous singer!

voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, As to long panoramas of visions.

I cease from my song for thee, From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee

And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?

O wild and loose to my soul—O wondrous singer!

voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, As to long panoramas of visions.

I cease from my song for thee, From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee

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.

, with bends and chutes; And my Illinois fields, and my Kansas fields, and my fields of Missouri; The

My limbs, my veins dilate; The blood of the world has fill'd me full—my theme is clear at last: —Banner

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

my love to a living soul.

And I am still all these and much moreover.I glory in my mutability and my vast receptivity.

I glory in my invincible supremacy over prejudice, my superb contempt for custom.

He is the author of all my suffering, but he hath redeemed my soul. And alas!

(I have expunged the word "SIN" from my writings.)

—Dear comrade, I still live here as a hospital missionary after my own style, & on my own hook—I go every

I have cut my beard short & hair ditto: (all my acquaintances are in anger & despair & go about wringing

Then around my majestic brow around my well-brimmed felt hat—a black & gold cord with acorns.

I had to give up health for it—my body—the vitality of my physical self: oh!

My body?

Poem in the 1856 edition of Leaves of Grass: "The best I had done seemed to me blank and suspicious, / My

The lines "I am too great to be a mere President or Major General / I remain with my fellows—with mechanics

fool and the wise thinker" may be related to a similar phrase in the poem eventually titled Who Learns My

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

Whitman Esq Feb 24.1890 My dear, venerable friend It was my intention to have noted my recent call upon

you, with my expressions of the great pleasure that visit had given me, but I have been prevented doing

so, from having taken cold in my eyes, subjecting me to a sort of vagabond life for the past week.

delighted to have you acknowledge this note, if you feel, it will not be a task— Accept dear friend, my

Whitman 1740 N. 15th st.Phila My father was John F.

better or strongly—the bowel movement is just right (a great favorable point daily or every other daily)—my

you Pearsall Smith's note wh' is favorable & you will want to know—the remains cool & pleasant to-day—My

My dinner is just here & I relish it— W W Steamship Aller June 20th. 1888.

My dear Friend — It was with much regret that we felt compelled to leave you in your sickness last week

Our passage across the whole way has been nearly as smooth as a duck pond, and my health has been very

with me—Though the rheumatism is not severe—any thing like its first attack—it still keeps its hold—my

Tuesday, (two perfect days) —& expect to be down there next Sunday— —The Staffords are all about as usual—My

Poetry in America"—(it is a Vol: Volume of Bohn's Standard Library)—It is a good collection—he gives my

third story room,—just after 4 p m—my sister down stairs sewing—it is very quiet in the house, almost

lonesome—my brother away far in Pennsylvania at his work—& no, or very few visitors lately—The weather

monday Monday evening My dear walt i was sorry my being so late last week with my letter caused you any

uneasiness if any thing was the matter with me more than common you would be advised of it my dear walter

to venture it rained here last night very hard) i am about as usual i have had rather bad pains in my

its fronting the north or south) not one word have i had from Jeff or matt or han or ma ry you are my

Dear friend, I send by same mail with this, my latest piece, copied in a newspaper —& will write you

I suppose you duly received my former letters (two)—I ought to have written something about your children

in your letter of last summer, July 23d, which I have just been reading again)—Dear boys & girls—how my

I am still living here in employment in a Government office—My health is good—Life is rather sluggish

Rossetti quite a long letter —My present address is Solicitor's Office, Treasury, Washington, D. C.

My dear Sir: Mr.

that he had brought your books with him from America, a gift from you, and that they were lying in my

London chambers; Whereupon I wrote back to him, begging him to bring them himself to me at my country

I have now just called at my London lodgings, and found them on the table.

I had previously met with several of your works and read them with interest and had made up my mind that

Horace to meet me at Dooner's to breakfast that day—hope to see you toward noon—same day—Sunday— No, my

That same day, he wrote Horace Traubel: "I am over my eyes in work and my right arm is helpless and painfull—it

edition you got of Shephard, four or five weeks ago—with the remaining copies (if any) of the 25 sent by my

I have somewhere between 300 & 350 of my little book of later poems, "As a Strong Bird on Pinions free

If you care to have the sole & exclusive command of all my books in existence, take this offer.

I am sick & paralyzed—a tedious prospect still before me—& should be glad to have the books off my hands

With Walt Whitman in Camden in 1889: "What a sweat I used to be in all the time . . . over getting my

previously published in Leaves of Grass, "Passage to India" was Whitman's attempt to "celebrate in my

—I don't well know when my American Selection will be out: my work on it is done, & the rest depends

I sent on the copy of your works transmitted for "The Lady," after some little delay occasioned by my

seems very considerably impressed with the objects & matter of interest in London: I wish it might be my

previously published in Leaves of Grass, "Passage to India" was Whitman's attempt to "celebrate in my

…My brain is too sensitive.

Camden June 19 1890 My dear friend & all It is a wonderful fine day, cool enough & I am feeling fairly—every

was glad to see him—he looks well—I hear from Dr Bucke f'm Canada, & f'm Edw'd Carpenter —he is well—my

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

reverential terms his meeting with Walt Whitman: "The memory of that 'good time' will ever be one of my

most valued possessions and it is associated with my most unique experience.

Rossetti I am drawn toward, and though my first impression of him was that he was a high flown literary

as Assistant Secretary Richardson has impressed me into his service here & proposes to retain me & my

I have seen enough of cities, & streets & art and pictures & museums to stand me all the rest of my days

, and am in a hurry to set my face westward.

fried eggs on a perfumed napkin, and the napkin on beautiful tissue paper & the whole on a china plate (my

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

…My brain is too sensitive.

evn'g as usual (always welcome)—he is well—is a clerk in a bank in Phila—Am sitting at present alone in my

I enclose one of my late circulars as it may have a wisp of interest to you.

Robert Browning (1812–1889), known for his dramatic monologues, including "Porphyria's Lover" and "My

volumes of Horace Traubel's With Walt Whitman in Camden (various publishers: 1906–1996) and Whitman's "My

day—Expect Dr B[ucke] here to day —continue on myself badly enough—catarrhal crises—nights not so bad—made my

O'C and Dr & T & I—have had my 4½ meal with zest—we all send best respects & love to you & to the friends

sixty-five poems that had originally appeared in November Boughs (1888); while the second, "Good-Bye my

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

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

It connects itself with memories of my mother's like condition—her only companion often a canary too.

and, while I cannot send you anything particularly new, I re-dedicate to you all, as follows, one of my

s Purport," "For Us Two, Reader Dear," and "My Task" (?). The cluster was rejected by B. O.

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