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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

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.

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

(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.

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

[My hand, my limbs grow nerveless]

Indeed, all through those years—that period—I was at my best—physically at my best, mentally, every way

"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

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.

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."

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

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

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.

—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

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

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

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

"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

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.

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

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.

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

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?

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.

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