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Howard Lake, Minn Minnesota July 21, 1875 My Dear Friend Walt I was glad to hear from you But Sory Sorry

to know that your Health was not Improving But glad that you remember me My health's Failig Failing

I am trying for an Envelid Invalid Pentian Pension I have Now only the Need of to two witnesses of my

M D Halans is my agent St.

Paul Howard Lake is Improving Fast I wished you would come and visit this place My wife sends her Best

left yesterday in the 4 p m train, had a fine run to Phila: Philadelphia & here I am to-day today in my

regular den—all the better for my month's trip— Nothing very new—brother & sister well as usual—my two

I suppose you got the Tribune of July 4 with my letter in.

Walt Whitman I eat my biscuits for supper only—have two or three of them in a bowl soak'd for an hour

America Feb. 6 1892 Camden N J—U S America Feb.6 '92 Well I must send you all dear fellows a word from my

All are good—physical conditions &c. are not so bad as you might suppose, only my suffering[s] much of

the time are fearful—Again I repeat my thanks to you & cheery British friends may be last—my right arm

must combine all the bulk people of all lands, the women not forgetting—But the mustard plaster on my

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

My copies of the Eng[ineering] Record with article have not come—slips also not come—I hope they will

—& will ask you if convenient to jog the editor's memory—Horace, ab't the kind mention & offer ab't my

and will write you further—also ab't the sculptor—am unwell to–day— Walt Whitman Tho' I sit up & eat my

rations & have my right arm & (sort o') mentality I am paralyzed & utterly disabled here—cannot walk

across the room—my respects to Worthen —show him this— Walt Whitman to Horace Tarr, 13 December 1890

Harned said something which disparaged my politics.

, or, Give him my love.

Lots of my fish fight shy of my rod for a long time but I eventually game them all."

I keep freshening and shaping my books at my leisure, and hope to put them in type the coming year.You

I keep it in my prose volume.

I have friends, enough money, comfort—as good things as my age, my condition, will permit.

guard, my promise, yet past all possibility of demand.

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

ruin, my night!

But you cannot know how these days of my waiting, this night-coming time of my life, are confident, happy

than you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my

forever held in solution, I too had receiv'd identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body,

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? We understand then do we not?

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

than you suppose, And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my

forever held in solution, I too had receiv'd identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body,

What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?

Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you? We understand then do we not?

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

My dear Friend and Master, About twelve years since, I was in Boston and looking at the books of an old

In all my troubles and successes I have been strengthened by your divine teachings.

(My words seem utterly paltry and drivelling, and I am thoroughly ashamed of them.

My dear Master— do write to me—your faithful pupil and lover.

My will not prove my love, but could you have seen my work since I first read your divine Message—you

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

(As if any man really knew aught of my life; Why, even I myself, I often think, know little or noth-

ing nothing of my real life; Only a few hints—a few diffused, faint clues and indi- rections indirections

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

431 Stevens Street Camden Jan: 18 '82 My dear Mrs Childs Yours & Mr Childs', inviting me to dine & meet

an invalid—just suffering an extra bad spell & forbidden to go out nights this weather— Please give my

hearty salutation & American welcome to Mr Wilde— I much desire my friend to briefly report & give my

Niagara Falls Sept 28 '80 Have finished my summer tour of St Lawrence & the Thousand Islands &c.

—have jaunted over 3000 miles mostly river & Lakes—(I believe I sent you a couple of my current letters

here in Canada) & am now on my way home to Camden N J (stopping here a short time)—I am unusually well

& robust for a half-paralytic—Camden will still remain my address.

He had a strikingly positive blue gown on which at once attracted my eye and occasioned remark.

It is a present from my sister, George's wife."

my dear! You've come again!"

Jenkins, of the American, returned my article on O'Connor as "too eulogistic."

It's as bad as it used to be when I sent Mary out a-searching for my socks.

, 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

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night, When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day

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

See, my cantabile!

Borrowdale, Cressington Park Sep 29 To Walter Whitman, Esq r Sir, To my only Brother, who for nearly

has been a helpless sufferer in Santiago, I am sending a specially prepared Birthday Book: and it is my

very earnest wish to obtain for insertion in my Book the name of your most honored self.

I trust you will graciously pardon my freedom in asking the favour of your sign-manual on enclosed slip

Studio 2 W. 14 th st New York Febr. 12 90 My dear sir I have delivered your book to Mr. Bancroft.

I take the pleasure to mail to you some proofs of my drawings and ask you to accept them with my kindest

Thanking you for your kindness at the occasion of my visit to you, and wishing you good health I am most

Monday afternoon April 14 1879. 1309 Fifth av: near 86th st My dear Reid— As you might possibly have

room in the paper—& a full report might hit—I send you a complete copy of my lecture, to take the chances

to-morrow's paper —(As I calculate, it would make about three quarters of a column in your small type) — —My

plan is to break the tedium of my half invalidism from time to time (& also collect a few shekels) by

My dear Rudolf Schmidt , My lonesomeness & sickness here, (for I am still sick, & here,) have been much

rejoiced to–day today by my getting your good & copious letter of 28th February, on your return to Kopenhagen

copies Demokratiske Fremblik , & one copy in sheets—also three copies picture paper Folkeblad , with my

Tribune ) my two latest pieces Song of the Redwood Tree , (California,) and Prayer of Columbus , which

the head—walk hardly any, (from the paralysis,) but maintain good spirits, keep up in body & face, (my

arrangements and returned and told him all about it which pleased him very much, he put his arms around my

another room and when it got close to the wall an oven door opened and in went the rod and pan with my

friend vanishing away like a snow flake before my eyes. that thought then as well as now crowded into

These are part of what thoughts were crowding in my brain as I stood watching for one hour till my friend

Cooper vanished away before my eyes. so I felt I must tell you that there is a new Crematory built in

Inflating my throat—you, divine average! You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.

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

To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- color'd rose-color'd flesh; To be conscious of my body

How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!

sail'd down the Mississippi, As I wander'd over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have look'd through my

Scented Herbage of My Breast. SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I glean, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves

O blossoms of my blood!

grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the conceal'd heart there!

Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!

SPLENDOR of ended day floating and filling me, Hour prophetic, hour resuming the past, Inflating my throat

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

To prepare for sleep, for bed, to look on my rose-color'd flesh!

To be conscious of my body, so satisfied, so large! To be this incredible God I am!

How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!

SPLENDOR of falling day, floating and filling me, Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past, Inflating my

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

To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- colored flesh, To be conscious of my body, so amorous

How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!

sailed down the Mississippi, As I wandered over the prairies, As I have lived—As I have looked through my

SPLENDOR of ended day floating and filling me, Hour prophetic, hour resuming the past, Inflating my throat

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

To prepare for sleep, for bed, to look on my rose-color'd flesh!

To be conscious of my body, so satisfied, so large! To be this incredible God I am!

How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!

Scented Herbage of My Breast. SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I glean, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves

O blossoms of my blood!

grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the conceal'd heart there!

Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!

To state the latest: this morning (Sunday) I got up and prepared my own breakfast as usual (and after

having went over my garden (until 10 o'clock, I quietly took a chair and sat down to enjoy a perusal

I threw down the paper indignantly, and seizing my boots and coat retired to the kitchen, and shut the

But I was pursued there, and could not escape without forcing my way; but I came out of the encounter

with the back of my right hand so badly lacerated by her nails, that I am compelled to bandage it.

It is now Thursday afternoon, between 3 and 4—& I am writing this in my room in Portland av.

Pete, one month of my leave exactly is up to-day.

On my way back, I went up in the pilot house & sailed across the river three times—a fine breeze blowing

Then home—took a bath—ate my dinner—& here I am all alone, most stript stripped , taking things as cool

I work several hours a day keeping things straight among the printers & founders, on my books.

Pete, you say my sickness must be worse than I described in my letters—& ask me to write precisely how

Yesterday I thought I felt as strong & well as ever in my life—in fact real young & jolly.

It is now towards 3—Mother & I have just had our dinner, (my mammy's own cooking mostly.)

Pete, the fourth week of my vacation is most ended. I shall return the middle of next week.

Give my love to Johnny Lee —let him read this letter, & then return it to you.

Oct 1891 7. pm Dear Walt, Here I am in Albany on my way south.

I hope with all my heart that things have gone well with you & that when I do hear, the news will be

My coming to Camden on Monday will be contingent on Ingersoll's lecturing that evening—as I want to hear

For when I saw you, you reminded me strangely & strongly of my dear mother, & I almost felt as though

God bless you for all you have done & been to me & to my friends (lovers of you).

Now my voice is stronger, I ask, why will you not speak to me?

For the first time I act as my nature prompts me.

This is my mode of life:—At dusk I reach some village, a few grass huts by the sea or in some valley.

You will easily imagine, my dear sir, how delightful I find this life.

My address is San Francisco, Cal Box 1005. P. O. I shall immediately return there.

I saw O'Grady's article in the December "Gentleman's" & from my point of view, he dwells on what I like

perhaps (besides being good fun) the only way to bring out the splendid ardor & friendship of those, my

unknown friends, my best reward, art & part with me, in my pages, (for I have come to solace & perhaps

My condition physically is pretty much the same—no worse, at least not decidedly.

deal on the ferry, full of life & fun to me—get down there by our horse cars, which run along near my

Dear Rudolf Schmidt The Danish edition Demokratiske Fremblik , of my Democratic Vistas , has reached

I suppose you rec'd received my letter from here of Jan. 25—about my illness, paralysis—(& the papers

Tribune , with a poem, (my latest,) Prayer of Columbus So you will see I cannot desist from writing,

Don't fail, my dear friend, to write me at least as soon as you return.

Graphic ) with acc't account of my illness —also February Harper's , and the , by this mail—I like to

Inflating my throat—you, divine average! You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.

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

To prepare for sleep, for bed—to look on my rose- color'd rose-color'd flesh, To be conscious of my body

How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around! How the clouds pass silently overhead!

win- dows windows , my eyes, As I went forth in the morning—As I beheld the light breaking in the east

both—Logan's letter rec'd & gladly—With me slowly jogging along (down hill)—easier the last few days of my

watching half an hour or more—was there last evening at sunset—Suppose you rec'd the papers, accting my

birth day supper (I am now in my 72d y'r you know)—Dr Bucke is home in Canada at his Asylum busy as

a bee—is well—I have heard of my lines & note ab't the Queen's birthday in the English papers —my last

July. 1891 My dear Walt Whitman, I intended to write you a good long letter tonight for tomorrow's mail

will send you a long account of D r Bucke's visit & D B will have sent you his But I must send you my

Last week I got no proper opportunity of writing at all—to my great regret.

And that is the crowning glory & privilege of my life, opening out vistas of sacred cheer & hope & purposes

And my deepest love to you evermore. Wallace James W. Wallace to Walt Whitman, 21 July 1891

Law Offices JEROME BUCK, 206 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, October 16 188 8 My dear Sir, Please accept my lasting

I sought only thro' through Tom Harned a line from your hand to place in my copy of 'Leaves of Grass.

If you ever come my way I know a place hard by, where a bottle of the reddest Burgundy may be found that

I am my dear Mr Whitman Gratefully & faithfully yours Jerome Buck For Walt Whitman Esquire Camden NJ

is W S K's letter just rec'd —fine & a little warm to–day—has been almost cool here four days—made my

breakfast on bread & canteloupe—still have my supper at 4½—no dinner—fair excretion business—out in

wheel ch'r last evn'g—my grip has call'd in upon me again the last two or three days (probably the great

the weather & stoppage of sweating)—not yet so bad as formerly—bladder botheration—a sister of one of my

war soldiers call'd yesterday—a nice smart old maid—my soldier still lives & flourishes—in California—Anson

I suffer much with my head, & locomotion is more clumsy & paralyzed even than usual—But my inward feeling

We are having it warm & bright & spring like here at present—very attractive out, but my head prevents

My nieces are well—the one with the hair a la Chinois is California, (Jessie,) the younger—the other

Louis, full of work—both my brothers have plenty of noble, manly work, & very remunerative.

Botolph Club years ago to arrange for my lecture in Boston—my lecture on the murder of Lincoln.

There will be no more occasions like that: my time is gone—my time for gadding about on speechifying

"He prints editions each time upon my special grant," explained W.

purpose—was within my means: so here I came, have been ever since."

I shall mail you my latest piece in a magazine to be out presently.

O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis!

VIGIL strange I kept on the field one night: When you, my son and my comrade, dropt at my side that day

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

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

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

"I'm turned clean over—off my keel—am badly shaken.

I seem to see things all right with my mind but my body won't see things at all!" Mildly laughed.

I must get to my bed: my head reels: I feel as though a minute more on my feet—on my feet—here—would

finish me—be my last."

He reached out, took my hand. "My cane! My cane!" I put the cane in his hand. He could say nothing.

A carol closing sixty-nine—a résumé—a repetition, My lines in joy and hope continuing on the same, Of

ye, O God, Life, Nature, Freedom, Poetry; Of you, my Land—your rivers, prairies, States—you, mottled

entire—Of north, south, east and west, your items all; Of me myself—the jocund heart yet beating in my

, old, poor and paralyzed—the strange inertia falling pall-like round me, The burning fires down in my

see notes July 29, '88 | also Aug 1 All right my dear J R —$60 for the Booth article will do, in full

—(I reserve the right of printing it in future collections of my writings—this is indispensable.)

I have been & am lingering under the miserable inertia following my sunstroke—otherwise should have sent

you one or two articles—have them on the stocks— Am very slowly gaining the tally of my previous strength—had

.: "GoodBye My Fancy 2d Annex to LofG". Did he propose to put his name on title-page? No.

Longaker said they had nothing at all to do with my depression, but I stopped them today.

My sleep didn't amount to a small coin.

My belly kept me awake—yes, awake and awake—which is unusual, for in my own way, as a usual thing, I

And then, "But I have just had my dinner—and ate heartily—and took a couple of swallows of the wine.

In the afternoon the books, I dont don't know how to settle down my thoughts calmly enough to write,

I have not shut my eyes to the difficulties and trials & responsibilities (for the childrens children's

discontent with old England or by any adverse circumstances here which I might hope to better there—my

reasons, emotions, the sources of my strength and courage for the uprooting & transplanting—all are

That America has brought them forth makes me want to plant some, at least, of my children on her soil

spell—ten days, two of them quite serious—but am somewhat better—am sitting up anyhow writing this, but my

brain is flabby—my grip weak—The doctor speaks of a pronounc'd gastric trouble, from long indigestion—No

Solitude" —have no doubt it is a total invention (not to use the word fraud wh' is perfectly proper)—my

are a good many such—it might be worth while to stamp them peremptorily in future—I have included all my

a good strong willing nurse , & good doctoring watch—I send my love & memories to Mrs: F., to Baxter,

My eye got open at last, but is still bleary and bad."

My cold hangs on, though not so bad as at first.

The state of the weather, & my cold, &c. have rather blocked me from having my usual enjoyment here,

trouble)—I go out a couple of hours middle of the day, but keep in nights— —I have got the new edition of my

enclosed, as you may need it—Should you want more, you write, as I have plenty—I am writing this up in my

butter—every thing tip-top—get along well enough—you must try to do the same—so good bye, for this time, my

Tuesday Mar 25 1862 Walt Whitman My dear Mr.

My social position enjoins precaution & mystery, and perhaps the enjoyment of my friend's society is

heightened which in yielding to its fascination I preserve my incognito; yet mystery lends an ineffable

—You have already my whereabouts & my hours—It shall only depend upon you to make them yours and me the

Camden Sunday Sept: September 10 My dear friend I went round last evening to call on Mrs Rogers, & thought

yesterday—he is well & hearty & seems to be having good times—I shall write to him to-day—Well the work on my

new book "Specimen Days" is finished, & I feel as if a troublesome job was off my hands The enclosed

the pond, the first three summers '76, '77 and '78 I was down there at your house—We could not get my

miles from Philadelphia— (While I am writing this it is a very pleasant quiet Sunday—as I sit here by my

you can keep posted, & make whatever mention, if any, accurately— but would rather not myself only my

In connection let me state that I am putting a new book in type, my Prose Works , called Specimen Days

, & Collect , about 380 pages—gives a lot of random typical days, diary fashion, during my life—& then

swoops pell mell my past literary papers, essays &c. in the Collect , (like fish in a net)—is to be

a companion Vol to my Poems—Is to be pub. published by Rees Welsh & Co: 23 South 9th st.