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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.

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,

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

gossiping in the candle light" that resonates with the beginning of the second paragraph of the article My

The entry which begins, "I find this in my notes" (see images 35, 36, and 38) was revised and used in

(See Ted Genoways, "'Scented herbage of my breast': Whitman's Chest Hair and the Frontispiece to the

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.

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

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

A.MS. draft and notes.loc.00273xxx.00263[My hand, my limbs grow nerveless]about 1874poetrypoetryhandwritten1

[My hand, my limbs grow nerveless]

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.

writing at a venture to propose to you the publication, in a moderate-priced volume, of a full edition of my

poems, Leaves of Grass, in England under my sanction.

I make this proposition not only to get my poems before the British public, but more because I am annoyed

at the horrible dismemberment of my book there already & possibility of something worse.

Should my proposal suit you, go right on with the book.

summer—the serious attack warded off again—but extreme weakness of legs and body remaining—Keeping me in my

sick room so far—yet my usual mentality & good heart continued— My little new 140 page $1.25 booklet

I am to have all my books printed & bound in one large 900 page Vol. too, ("Walt Whitman Complete") soon

ready—I am sitting in my room writing this, body almost paralyzed— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Karl

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

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?

Beginning My Studies BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

BEGINNING my studies, the first step pleas'd me so much, The mere fact, consciousness—these forms—the

pleas'd me so much, I have never gone, and never wish'd to go, any farther, But stop and loiter all my

My 71st Year. MY 71ST YEAR.

AFTER surmounting three-score and ten, With all their chances, changes, losses, sorrows, My parents'

deaths, the vagaries of my life, the many tearing passions of me, the war of '63 and '4, As some old

Mar 23 rd 1892 My Dear Old Friend And how fares it with you tonight?

I look out across the western sky, now studded with twinkling stars & wonder how you are, my dear good

friend of friends My heart's best & truest affection flows out to you & my sympathy can hardly find

I have my dear good old father with me tonight, & with him here & to write to I am happy!

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

Friend Walter— I design bearly to say How do you do, while you are in Boston, & to express my own pleasure

I know what is your mental fare in Boston from my own past personal experience and without wishing to

intrude myself above my true level I could wish I were, at least, a stander-by.

How shall I rise to life (action), is, now, my all pressing & all urgent question.

Accept my affectionate regards. O. K. Sammis To Walt Whitman. O. K.

Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!

with the dancers, and drink with the drinkers; The echoes ring with our indecent calls; I take for my

love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he

shall be one condemn'd by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile my-

self myself from my companions?

Belmont My Dear Walter (as poor Emerson wd would say) I some weeks ago devised a cunning scheme for getting

I took up the idea & having my time at my disposal, I am going to work you up a lecture.

Do you think you will be able to come by that time, my dear friend?

I have never heard you either read or lecture & shall be a thousand times repaid for my trouble. aff—

"Last of Ebb" is my favorite. William Sloane Kennedy to Walt Whitman, 28 August 1888

dear walt i got your letter tuesday Tuesday my hand is some better to day lou returned home yesterday

visit has done her good i had a rather hard time of it i was so very lame at times i co u ldent shut my

hand my finger were so swoln swollen but we got along and had pretty good things to eat i cooked with

my left hand and edd helped me if i hadent hadn't been so dreadfull dreadful lame and my hand pained

money up to get it for a long time so she made it out with edds board money it was 46 dollars good bie my

Walt Whitman, Esq., My dear Sir:— At the suggestion of a friend some weeks ago I began to read your poems

, and have become so much interested in them from my hasty perusal of them that I have decided to make

them the object of my studies during the present summer.

I have one difficulty, however, and it is the occasion of my writing this letter to you.

testify as to the pleasure, comfort, and instruction they have put at my service.

O'Kane has undoubtedly sent you all the copies of my books remaining in his possession—he received originally

And since then he has delivered about 30 Leaves of of Grass to my order—leaving only 30 or 40 more to

As said in my note, you now, (with the exception of about 350 copies of As A Strong Bird , which are

at my printer's in N.Y., & which I can send you an order for,) you now have my books in the market.

Strong Bird on store in N.Y., which I can send you an order for, if you wish, at once.) you have all my

Sent a paper—slips—& Mem Memoranda Aug 10 '76 Copenhagen 24th of July 1876 My dear Walt Whitman.

I wrote to you in April a forthnight fortnight before my marriage.

If the letter should not have reached you, I hereby tell you, that at the 14th May I married my dear

My thoughts were with on the 4th.

My dear wife is greeting you as a friend.

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

Washington, Feb 3, 1865 My dear friend, From the deep distress of my mother whose health is getting affected

, & of my sister—& thinking it worth the trial myself, I write this hastily to ask you to do, or rather

one of the special exchanges (of which they are now making quite a number) shall be made, in favor of my

(both the above officers have been promoted from the ranks for conduct on the field)— Walt Whitman My

C. as I go to post office for my letters. Walt Whitman to John Swinton, 3 February 1865

My journey home was very pleasant to me & what made it the more so (I suppose) was the anticipation of

once more being with my friends.

I arrived here on the 19th the joy of friends on my arrival I will not attempt to say anything about,

My mind is taken back to when I lay suffering in the Hospital & I have a particular feeling of gratitude

the helpless (when away from home) than to find a friend, one in whom we can confide & trust, as was my

to see them—I wrote to you to write & confer with him (R) —but have no word f'm you—Did you receive my

this time—I have nothing from R. now for a long, long while (with that exception)— I am laid up in my

sick room—essentially the sixth recurrence of my war paralysis—& have been (two or three spells serious

feeble, cannot get across the room without assistance—have a nurse, a good, strong Canadian young man—my

the same as hitherto—have mean time bro't out "November Boughs," 140 pages, & a big Vol. 900 pages, my

you, & sister & father, & have you located —All sorrowful, solemn, yet soothing thoughts come up in my

mind at reminiscences of my dear friend, your dear mother —have often thought of you all, since '73

mine—I know him well — I have just returned from Boston, where I have been the past week—went on to read my

under the benumbing influences of paralysis, but thankful to be as well as I am—still board here (make my

head quarters here) with my brother & his wife—Eddy, my brother, is living & well, he is now boarding

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!

have I also give you. 9 The moon gives you light, And the bugles and the drums give you music; And my

heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.

Mickle St Camden 1890 8½ PM Oct: 28— Sitting here alone in my den—rather a bad day—this grip on me heavily—sweating

last hour & rather better—y'r good letter of 26th came at sundown mail & has somehow cheer'd me—had my

fingers & rather pleasant as work to my mind— Have been putting the last hour in a leisurely body bath

—& shall have a good massage in a short hour f'm now, as I get to bed—Give my love to dear boy Pardee

am —dark wet forenoon—good bowel action—Wm Ingram here this mn'g—nothing new—ab't as usual with me—my

and brain action (while easily tired and sore at the best) remain, the muscles, especially my right

fair—and the main elementary functions active at least half (or even plus half) to keep off so far my

bound edition of L. of G. including the "Sands at 70" and "Backward Glance," as a sort of commemorating my

Bucke —my dear friend O'Connor at Washington very ill yet—Wm.

Walsh on the Herald , and Julius Chambers World are friendly to me—I am sitting in my big rattan chair

wall before me this moment with the Bacon —(I am ashamed to say never before acknowledged—but it is in my

little sitting room & before my eyes every day—more than half the time is taken for Shakspere) — I am

in general health—full as well—but laid by with lameness—added to by a fall two months ago & turning my

invitations to me which I should be most glad to accept—but I find it best not to stray too far from my

Give my best love & remembrances to her? I am comfortable here in my shanty.

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!

have I also give you. 9 The moon gives you light, And the bugles and the drums give you music; And my

heart, O my soldiers, my veterans, My heart gives you love.

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial! What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light, And the bugles and the drums give you music, And my heart, O my soldiers, my

veterans, My heart gives you love.

O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial! What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light, And the bugles and the drums give you music, And my heart, O my soldiers, my

veterans, My heart gives you love.

We mean Walt Whitman's "Good-bye my Fancy."

rhythmical prejudices, will hold its own with "Crossing the Bar," or the epilogue to "Asolando": Good-bye my

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

—now separation—Good-bye my Fancy.

my Fancy. C . Review of Good-bye My Fancy

April 18 Thursday Afternoon 89 I do hope my dearest brother you are feeling a good deal better to day

today I do want you to be. so much. my My greatest comfort is thinking about your being pretty well,

I think of you always my dear brother as I always like to tell you indeed Walt I dont don't think I could

I had not heard you was were sick my dear brother It is right pretty to hear about those wild flowers

.— Walt dear I send love with all my heart.

431 Stevens Street Camden New Jersey U S America Dec: 18 '81 My dear Rudolf Schmidt Yours of Nov: 27

too mourn the death of Elster —though unknown I had formed a liking for him—I shall forward one of my

book will not be published for some months—perhaps a year—I send you, same mail with this, a copy of my

is Sunday, just before sunset—& we have had a fine day—indeed a fine mild winter so far—have been in my

new edition is David Bogue, St Martin's Place, Trafalgar Square— I have heard that my book is to be