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Though it is but a few days since I posted a letter my dearest friend, I must write you again—because

I cannot help it, my heart is so full—so full of love & sorrow and struggle.

Soon soon as ever my boy has one to love & care for him all his own, I will come, I may not before, not

if it should break my heart to stop away from you, for his welfare is my sacred charge & nearer & dearer

than all to me verily my God, strengthen me, comfort me, stay for me—let that have a little beginning

54 Manchester Road Bolton England Jan 13 th 1891 My dear old friend, I was greatly pleased at receiving

My best thanks to you, too, for your kind offer to "send, or notify" me of, any thing you may write I

a personal affection for you which is almost filial in its intensity & of the gratitude with which my

God bless & keep you now & always, my life's Blessing, my Soul's Guide, Philosopher, Friend & Comrade

By last mail I received a kind letter from Mr s O'Connor acknowledging the receipt of the copy of my

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

America July 31, '75 My dear Rudolf Schmidt , Your letter of July 17, from near Wiemar has just reached

I do not recover my health —for over two months past have been worse than ever, but feel better to–day

world, as an active worker—& the best I look for is to keep up, by care & moderation, & have the use of my

mind as so far, with the partial use of my physical powers, for whatever term of life I have yet to

this forenoon, riding in a street car—& to the printing office, where I am printing a little book, my

Y. or Brooklyn, so as not to incommode my folks at home—taking my meals at the restaurants, & home &c—leaving

my time free for my work &c—Now have you such a room for me , at a fair price?

would be very agreeable—Your going off for a week or two would not make any difference—as a lodging is my

main object—write immediately & let me know, as my leave of absence will probably date from Monday next

I have an agreeable situation here—labor moderate—& plenty of leisure—My principal work is to make (from

it over & over again —it is very, very good—so much about your dear mother , it brought the tears to my

eyes, & I had to stop many times—my dear, dear Sister Martha , she must have suffered so much, & to

got just well enough to go out, in a carriage, but, dear Hattie, I am in a miserable condition, as to my

power of moving—The doctor says I shall get well, but it is very, very slow and irksome—my mind is clear

Louis are addressed wrong)—My right address is Walt Whitman Solicitor's office Treasury, Washington,

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, But this is my first—how can I like the rest

face the same, But this is the nipple of a breast of my mother, always near and always divine to me,

— and that the experience of this earth will prove only one out of myriads; But I believe my body and

I suppose you got my second letter last Wednesday.

I put down off hand, & write all about myself & my doings, &c. because I suppose that will be really

what my dear comrade wants most to hear, while we are separated.

I am doing a little literary work, according as I feel in the mood—composing on my books.

Among the pilots are some of my particular friends—when I see them up in the pilot house on my way to

Johnson & her sister mentioned in my article —& please give them my best remembrances.

I feel that I am better, in the main—yet still have daily & nightly bad spells in the head, & my leg

I have been waiting ever since I wrote, to get the photos. of my nieces, (my dear sister Mat's girls,

Drinkard—I sent Garaphelia Howard a paper, the Graphic that has my picture—how is she?

Give her my love—Poor, good Mr.

There is nothing new or special in my affairs or doings.

My folks all continue well—mother first rate, & brothers ditto. I do not have such good luck.

I have taken three or four of my favorite rides on Broadway.

I believe I described them to you in my letters a year ago.

Tell Johnny Lee I send him my love, & hope he is well & hearty. I think of him daily.

O, it makes my nerves quiver as I think of it.—Yes, anathema!

—Of course, I build now and then my castles in the air.

like wreaths of smoke, and about as substantial, my day dreams.

—It is my sanctum sanctorum, which profane foot invadeth not.

—My best wishes I waft to you, wrapped up and sealed with a wafer.

from want of love for you, not because I am not always in communion with you:— that I am, & so are all my

friends; there is a fine young fellow, son of Col Brackenbury, lying dead now in my neighbor's house

No: it is not that I do not love you, & do not dwell with you, that I have sent no token of my work.

You will see that I have stamped my two books of Sonnets with the heraldic coat borne by my ancestors

I will send you photos of my house, myself (done by Clifford), & 3 of my daughters.

Besides numerous other "good" people as almost everybody else would call them, I have in my mind the

instance of my first wife—a girl whom I became acquainted with at a school I attended in my 15th year

in the business of could keep her really contented with out ing my principles.

When it became necessary in order to retain my home that reconstruct my family, I preferred to be content

me "one bit" , and few of my near relatives lost their lives or otherwise badly "hurt".

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

con- tribute contribute to them, When breeds of the most perfect mothers denote America, Then to me my

I have press'd through in my own right, 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!

Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.

I can never answer my own question—never make up my mind.

I almost think if I had to ask fulfillment, the rock, now my saviour, my peace, would be my wreck, my

him he is often in my thoughts as I sit here in my den."

My purse and my heart are yours!" or to that effect.

Long have I kept my road—made my road: long, long!

He wants my book to be personal.

I'd as likely go back on my mother.

I hope he will accept my letter: he will some day see my position."

, period of my life, all told—in some ways possessing features not unlike my present experience.

My interest in the books and my consideration for you!

After I had been a while in my situation at Mr.

I made improvements both in my style of living, and in my dress—The new boarding-house in which I took

As it was now quite in the evening, I had hardly finished my meal before my companions came, according

Forgetful of my duty—of my employer's honor, and the crisis which would turn against him, if I continued

What fire burnt in my brain!

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!

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

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

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, As to long panoramas of visions. 18 I saw the vision

Must I pass from my song for thee; From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, com- muning communing

walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.

, That I was, I knew was of my body, and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body.

Manhatta, my river and sun-set, and my scallop-edged waves of flood-tide, the sea-gulls oscillating

face, Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

loudly and mu- sically musically call me by my nighest name! Live, old life!

Then stopped and added: "I suppose you get disgusted coming here every day to hear my perpetual whine—my

"Both my fingers and my memory gave out." Very calm.

I remember well how one of my noblest, best friends—one of my wisest, cutest, profoundest, most candid

"My memory is shamefully abusing my faith nowadays."

My dear sir,I send by this mail the second part of my study of your works.

Conway returned my admiration, and whether she would have accepted the offer of my hand, had I been in

And I spoke with an energy that showed my mind.

it, than upon any other portion of my conduct.

I already began to blame myself for my deceit.

knowledge and my memory.

compliance with request in your name in letter from George Routledge & Sons, New York, of December 28th & my

For my own convenience & to insure correctness I have had the MS. put in type, & thus transmit it to

It is to be distinctly understood that I reserve the right to print it in any future editions of my book

Hoping success to the Magazine, & that my piece may be found acceptable for it, I remain Respectfully

&c yours, Walt Whitman My address is at Attorney General's Office, Washington City, U.S.A.

I am prompted to take this liberty by a sense of my indebtedness to you, and I feel sure that you will

It is one of the desires of my life to look upon your venerable face in the flesh, and to be taken by

the hand of my loving Comrade; and I am not without the hope of one day being thus honoured by him who

has done so much to enrich my life and to rescue my Soul from its quagmire of Doubt and Despondency.

My dear Mr. Whitman: Allow me to introduce to your acquaintance, my young friend, Mr. E. H.

I remember with great pleasure my visit to you last March, when I was on my way home from Johns Hopkins

I am, my dear Sir, Very truly yours.

April 15 1876 My dear sir Please find enclosed my check for $5.—for a copy of "Leaves of Grass."

My delay is because of my intention to canvas canvass my friends and secure additional subscribers and

Dear Friend Abby, and all my friends, Helen & Emmy & Mr.

Arnold, I will write a line only—My paralysis still leaves me extremely feeble—& with great distress

I have lost my dear, dear sister Martha, in St.

present I can hardly move ten steps without feeling sick—I am sitting here now in the rocking chair in my

writing this—most of the time alone which suits me best—it is paralysis of left side—Love to all— Walt (My

You know I am well on my 71st year—lame and almost helpless in locomotion—inertia like a heavy swathing

ample dropping pall over me most of the time, but my thoughts and to some extent mental action ab't

I have had my daily mid-day massage (another just as I go to bed).

Tho't of going out a little in my wheel chair but it is bitter cold today here and I shall not.

I have just had a drink of milk punch—am sitting at present in my two-story den in Mickle St, alone as

Nothing my babe you see in the sky, And nothing at all to you it says—but look you my babe, Look at these

now the hal- yards halyards have rais'd it, Side of my banner broad and blue, side of my starry banner

Eastern shore, and my Western shore the same, And all between those shores, and my ever running Mississippi

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

My limbs, my veins dilate, my theme is clear at last, Banner so broad advancing out of the night, I sing

Nothing my babe you see in the sky, And nothing at all to you it says—but look you my babe, Look at these

now the hal- yards halyards have rais'd it, Side of my banner broad and blue, side of my starry banner

Eastern shore, and my Western shore the same, And all between those shores, and my ever running Mississippi

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

My limbs, my veins dilate, my theme is clear at last, Banner so broad advancing out of the night, I sing

I am still kept in my sick room, (but no worse)—My book printing goes on smoothly—My "Notes," such as

they are, on E[lias] H[icks] among the rest—the bunch of golden rods on my table as I write— Walt Whitman

which I wrote you Sept. 6th after I had received the precious packet, a letter in which I opened all my

I know too my own shortcomings, faults, flaws.

Love & Hope are so strong in me, my souls high aspirations are of such tenacious, passionate intensity

But I cannot like you clothe my nature in divine poems & so make it visible to you. Ah foolish me!

I felt as if my silence must kill me sometimes.

I for my part will advise him to collect and send on the whole amount as soon as he possibly can.

I am sure we shall all be quite satisfied with yr plans, for my part I am pleased that you are going

arranged that my contribution be my expenses to Camden & board bills there helping you get domicilled

(I built my own study out in Ohio when a lad).

But I shan't impart my surmise to any one else.

England Oct October 1: 1879 My dear Mr.

I have just received a letter from my friend in which he says: "I enclose you my promised Provençal translation

Do, I beg of you, do me the great favor to present them to him, in my name, when next you see him.

If ever I go to America, I assure you that one of my first visits will be to this most sympathetic of

poets, for whose large & lofty nature my admiration is merged into love ."

My dear Friend: As you see by the date of this, I am back again in Washington, moving around regularly

My health is pretty good, but since I was prostrated last July, I have not had that unconscious and perfect

The physician says my system has been penetrated by the malaria—it is tenacious, peculiar and somewhat

It is my first appearance in the character of a man not entirely well.

C., as I call for my letters daily at the post office. Should you have an opportunity to see Dr.

I again take my pen in hand to write a few lines to you to let you know how I am a getting This makes

that Gettysburg Battle. he sais that it was awful, and that he never wants to see the like of it again My

health is verry good, and my leg dos still continue's to mend slowly—but verry slow, the Doctor has

I am enjoying my self as well as I can with my four legs but I cannot go about much yet I am a going

No more at present but good by and write soon with my love to you and all enquiring friends, I remain

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests

vacant midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my

with eager calls, and orders of officers; While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my

or near, (rousing, even in dreams, a devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the depths of my

galloping by, or on a full run; With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests

night midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my

with eager calls and orders of officers, While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my

far or near, (rousing even in dreams a devilish exultation and all the old mad joy in the depths of my

galloping by or on a full run, With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests

night midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my

with eager calls and orders of officers, While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my

far or near, (rousing even in dreams a devilish exultation and all the old mad joy in the depths of my

galloping by or on a full run, With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my

But as time wore on, while my curiosity remained, its direction changed somewhat.

I have gone right on—my bent has remained my bent,—everything remained as it would have remained otherwise

I have for a couple of days been trying to get my hand down to the work of jotting my impressions—my

I don't know what will come of it—how well the memories will revive and my pencil stay them.

"On my trip out today, I stopped and left a copy of the leather book for Sam Grey.

My boy is running my plow—preparing ground for our usual cotton crop—somehow there seems never to be

Do you share my astonishment?

Ba "My course runs below the soundings of plummets".

I wish to keep J.B.s book, and I sent part pay ($1) in my Feb-letter.

You'll know the name— the tenant who makes my grain on my home farm, for 6 or more years, is still engaged—he

Bear forth to them, folded, my love —(Dear mariners!

for you I fold it here, in every leaf;) Speed on, my Book!

And so will some one, when I am dead and gone, write my life?

, I seek, for my own use, to trace out here.)

BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

I had an auction yestarday yesterday 4 of March to sell my Personally personal troperty property as I

told you in my other letter I have rented my farm of 35 acers acres for 5 years I would like to see

Why can not you com come & see my family I have a wife & littel little Girl 5 years old this month When

the house I felt proud of it myself I will have to get a frame for it and hang it up on the wall Walt my

We move about half a mile from this place my Post office will be the same (address) your in hast haste

Had my breakfast & relish'd it—three or four hot stew'd oysters, a stout slice of toasted Graham bread

, & a mug of coffee— My housekeeper Mrs: Davis is compell'd to be temporarily absent these two days &

Ed my nurse gets my breakfast & gets it very well.

often bless the Lord & congratulate myself that things are as well with me as they are—that I retain my

mentality intact—that I have put my literary stuff in final form—that I have a few (but sufficient)

— I expect to return in about two weeks—I am writing this here in the kitchen home,—I have deserted my

cakes for breakfast—sometimes I fry them myself—I wish you could just be here & eat breakfast—I think my

mammy makes the best coffee in the world, & buckwheats ditto—mince-pies ditto— —My new edition looks

the best yet—it is from the same plates as the last, only in One Vol. bound handsomely in green cloth—my

books sent to England by to-morrow's steamer—Dear son, I send my best love, as always.

My dear Poet, Walt Whitman.

Possibly my answer to Mr.

In case of the latter, I should have been glad had he thought my name worthy of mention as a friend.

Comes to my mind as I think of the hour When our poet and friends will be lovingly drinking The mystical

But, though absent in body, there's nothing can hinder My tasting the joys of that festive birthday;

Camden Sunday Sept: 10 Dear Harry Thanks for your good letter—I have had my hands full the last six or

eight weeks getting my new book in shape, seeing to every thing, and watching the proofs day & night

job two or three times a year)—I have had the mighty good luck to keep well this summer all through—my

letter a lady opposite is singing & playing the hymn "Nearer my god to Thee"—how beautiful it sounds

— Love to you my darling young brother W.W.— Walt Whitman to Harry Stafford, 10 September [1882]

My dear friend, Yours of the 8th has just come.

For a month or so, I have not been very well—my trouble takes the form, sometimes, of neuralgia—but is

I send my love to Helen and Emmy & all—I have rec'd a letter from mother to-day—she seems to be about

Give my respects to Mr. Arnold —also to Mr.

Parker's family —I am writing this by my window in the office—it is a fine view, ten miles of river,

it goes, it will be all right—the little Philadelphia paper piece was about the right statement of my

My brother Jeff has come on from St.

excursion, a week on a yacht voyage—I told him to call on you, if possible—& he will if he can work it—My

her I rec'd received her letter & thank her for it—I have not felt to write to her, or any one but my

I have had—but unspeakable —my physical sickness, bad as it is, is nothing to it— The following are

along real well, upon the whole—I went out and over to the office yesterday— went in & sat down at my

desk a few minutes—It was my greatest effort yet, and I was afraid I had overshot the mark again, as

getting along all right—I am going out a little to-day, but not much— I feel now over the worst of my

bit of sickness, & comparatively comfortable— Poor Martha—the thoughts of her still come up in my mind

Price— Mother, I shall try to get out, & get my Feb. pay, I have to get it from the old office, & then

the rest of my days in that vicinity.

happiest hours have been spent there—some of my freest hours."

Upon my remonstrance he said: "I will make it a religion to like the new man."

He took it out of my hand, scanned it, handed it back.

"If I die in the midst of things you may fall heir to all my work: think of that: all my work!"

I will not write any more such letters; or, if I write them because my heart is so full it cannot bear

must choose their our own time & mode—but for the simplest current details—for any thing that helps my

And if you say, "Read my books, & be content—you have me in them"—I say, it is because I read them so

my children to be shaped modified vitalized by & through these—outwardly & inwardly.

Good bye my dearest friend. Anne Gilchrist Anne Gilchrist to Walt Whitman, 3 June 1872