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that's about the best I can say—continue to get out a little every day when the weather will permit—but my

last night) is to wear over—I got the stuff, it is first rate Middlesex flannel, cost $5, (same as my

necessary—must then be washed by some one experienced in washing nice flannels—I sent Graphic with my

portrait —(as they sent me some)—also my Capitol letter —I rec'd your good letter last Tuesday Dear

Nash—give them both my love—(I see just a line in the paper that Mr.

see if they would reach you—I was very much disappointed when I went to Armory that evening to find my

Thuey, did you take the envelope you had with my address?

you need not mind ceremony—there is no need of ceremony between dear friends for that I hope we are, my

together again—good by, dear boy, from your true friend— Thuey, I enclose an envelope but will write my

be afraid, my darling comrade—it is little, but it may be some use—Thuey, you write to me just as you

Room 56 Borden Block, Chicago, Feby 3d 188 7 My dear and honoured Walt Whitman:— It is less than a year

I was attracted by the curious title "Leaves of Grass", opened the book at random, and my eyes met the

In the "Spring Song" and the "Song of the Depths" my orbit responded to the new attracting sun.

Imagine that I have expressed to you my sincere conviction of what I owe.

The essay is my "first effort," at the age of 30.

Camden Thursday Evening June 2 My dear friend I suppose it must look fine down there after the heavy

fruit & grain— Nothing very new with me—the big Boston house has sent me word that they will publish my

stands now—I find I can have them publish it, if I choose, but I suppose I am getting pretty lofty in my

old days & must have my own terms, & pretty good ones too— I am feeling pretty well—I think my last

, & a prospect of some pleasant days, sufficiently cool— I am alone in the house, have been all day—My

My Dear Freind Walter.

It is with mutch pleasure that I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well and that my leg is

I have had a good many of my young friends to see me.

My Father and Mother are well and send their respects to you for Mother says whoeve[r] did me a faivor

I expect that you still visit the Hospital if so give my respects to the boys I have nothing more to

My Dear Friend, I have been thinking about writing you at Brooklyn but as I did not know for certain

have thought of you very often since I saw you and would have gone to Brooklyn to see you again had my

have not been out much since I saw you as the weather would not admit and when the weather is stormy my

her as you know I have good reason to thank her for many a kind turn which she wrought for me during my

Please tell Mr Woods (if you see him) I am enjoying good health and I send my kind regards to him and

I send my friendliest remembrances & good wishes. And to my ever dear friends, Mrs.

—We have had a snowy day—as I look out of my window the ground is white in every direction—William has

bad cold, has not been down to work to-day, but has just come down town, & is this moment sitting by my

are going to have exciting times generally—but I guess no appeal to arms— I have heard lately from my

dear mother—she is well as usual—Emma Price can tell you more directly about her, as I hear, (to my

Louis, April 18th 1869 Wm O'Connor Esq My dear friend The package of "Reports" and afterwards your letter

received—I intended before this to write you and return thanks for the same—but like many other of my

you for the Reports—they furnished me with just the information I needed and you will please receive my

other reports of a like nature  I am very greedy to get these things and shall probably show it in my

the change of "government" will not hurt either you or him I remember with a great deal of pleasure my

328 Mickle Street Camden Dec: 21 '85 My dear friend Real glad to hear from you once more, as by yours

Seems to me mortality never enclosed a more beautiful spirit— The trouble ab't my eyesight passed over

had dinner &c—I go there every Sunday—So I get stirr'd up some, but not half enough—three reasons, my

natural sluggishness & the paralysis of late years, the weather, & my old, stiff, slow horse, with a

better—he gives up for the present his European tour, but is coming here soon for a week—As I close, my

June 29 My dear friends John and 'Sula Burroughs, I am here again in Camden, stopping awhile, with the

there—staid about a couple of weeks—obtained two months leave of absence, & (after almost making up my

been for about two weeks—(I think comparatively better the last two days)—occupying the rooms in which my

in life & heart left by the death of my mother is what will never to me be filled— I am comfortably

hour or two every day, while I am in this condition—The last nine or ten days in Washington, I left my

KarenWolfe"Good-Bye my Fancy!" (1891)"Good-Bye my Fancy!"

1891)The concluding poem of the Second Annex to the "authorized" 1891–1892 Leaves of Grass, "Good-Bye my

"Good-Bye my Fancy!"

"Good-Bye my Fancy!"

"Good-Bye my Fancy!" (1891)

Belmont Mass April 19. '86 My Dear Poet: Your postal rec'd. received I have completed (rough finish)

my seven chapters on you.

It is the most scholarly, fiery, and heavy-artillery piece of work I have yet done; took all my strength

I have got in my cellar, Walt, about 50 bottles of elderberry cordial—fine, smacky, made by myself last

My grand poet, my friend Yours as ever W.S. Kennedy How's the pony? Paper also!! good!

There is nothing new or noteworthy in my own affairs.

I keep fashioning & shaping my books at my leisure, & hope to put them in type the current year.

You speak of my prose preface to first "Leaves of Grass."

I am writing this at my desk in the Treasury building here, an immense pile, in which our office occupies

From my large open window I have an extensive view of sky, Potomac river, hills & fields of Virginia,

I gaze at the Sea while I eat my food and think of thee. . . . and often while I gaze thereon I think

I have been about sick with a cold on my lungs, and after my days work was done I did not feel like writing

I am going to give up my place the first of Ap r .

My health will not admit of it.

Often when my mind wanders back to the days that I spent in Armory Square, I can but cry.

My Hearts desire is that you may live a long and happy life and when you leave this Earth you may be

431 Stevens Street Camden Oct October 2 My dear girls (for this letter is for you both) I will just write

you a few lines without formality— It is evening—has just struck 8—I am sitting up in my room alone—I

pleasant ride out to the Park in the open car, this afternoon— return'd returned about an hour ago, & had my

get along pretty much in the old way— To-day Today I rec'd received an order for five full sets of my

books from England, accompanied by the money —(which of course doesn't hurt my feelings a bit)— havn't

Louis, Mo., Jan. 26th, 1888 My dear Jessie My darling girl , I enclose you a check for $50, hoping it

before you leave Burlington I got home from Ark yesterday, after a pretty hard time—I had to abandon my

I suppose I shall be gone about a week  Mr Smith of Leavenworth was at my office on Monday last and came

to—No I must make the best of what is wanted now—I presume I shall have lots of time after awhile— Well my

place—and if he does I would like to have you go Nothing new with me—I am feeling fairly well—except I have my

the best last news of Wm —Quite certainly I am weathering—to all appearance—this ab't sixth whack of my

war paralysis—(thanks mainly I opine to a sound strong body heredity from my dear father & mother)—I

am still keeping my room—shall attempt a mild raid soon—take no medicines—have finished (sent in all

copy) my little Nov: Boughs —Horace Traubel is a noble faithful fellow—Weather continues superb— Walt

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.

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. 7 It is not

mast- hemm'd mast-hemm'd Manhattan, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide,

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

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

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.

, My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg'd waves of flood-tide, The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies

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

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

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

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

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

O my father, It is so broad, it covers the whole sky! FATHER.

now the halyards have rais'd it, Side of my banner broad and blue—side of my starry banner, Discarding

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

O my father, It is so broad, it covers the whole sky! FATHER.

now the halyards have rais'd it, Side of my banner broad and blue—side of my starry banner, Discarding

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

Dec December 11 '76 My dear Linton I have been for some weeks down in the country—half moping like—yet

I have been waiting for the chance to get from the bindery, or from my stack, (as I unwrap the books)

you want—I have it in mind, & shall get it so, & send it you— Meantime, let this remorseful note be my

apology— —My address here is still the same— Walt Whitman Camden New Jersey Walt Whitman to William

Washington March 24, '68 My dear Mr.

conversation between us a few days since, allow me in candor to say, that I should decidedly prefer to retain my

Record Clerk, the duties of which I feel that I can fulfil properly—& that I would therefore, as far as my

Browning's part, would I deem it my duty to waive the preference mentioned, & obey your commands.

328 Mickle Street Camden New Jersey May 3, '87 Your letter rec'd & welcomed as always—My visit to N Y

was a hasty flash only—I am more & more wretchedly physically disabled, & feel better off here in my

G—but I doubt whether it contains much (or any thing) for you—I can loan you my copy if you wish—I will

certainly keep you posted ab't myself, or any literary movement or change or happening of my work— Walt

My dear niece, I received your nice good letter—and also Hattie's a week or two before —& have been very

I am not much different in my health—no worse. All the rest here are well.

This little cut picture was one I intended to send last Christmas, but it got lost in my papers—so I

enclose it now, for fun— Best love to you, dear child, & to my dear Hattie too, from Uncle Walt— I will

Dear & honoured Friend & Master I thank you from my heart for the gift of your great book—that beautiful

But my heart has not the power to make my brain & hands tell you how much I thank you.

I cannot even attempt to tell yourself (upon this page of paper with this pen in my hand), what it is

If my health, riven to the bottom like a tree in me, twelve years ago,—& the cares of a family, complicated

reliance on you, & my hope that you will not disapprove of my conduct in the last resort.

He sat eating and talking during nearly the whole time of my stay.

my preference.

But neither do some of my friends understand my love for the prairies—my statement, insistence, that

But I understand why I make my claim—I know—I see its justification—its necessity.

Fixed up my Gutekunst picture for me as I waited.

me—it is urgent, persistent: he sort of stands in the road and says: 'I won't movetilluntil you answer my

I have had my own troubles—I have seen other men with troubles, too—worse than mine and not so bad as

This is my permanent address.

Yet I felt that if you liked my poem [See In Re Walt Whitman] you would write.

to you to have arrogantly confounded your own fine thought and pure feeling with the baser metal of my

Rossetti.No. 4Washington, Dec. 3, 1867 My dear Mr.

of the full volume of my poems.

I cannot and will not consent, of my own volition, to countenance and expurgated edition of my pieces

My Prefatory Notice explains my principle of selection to exactly the same effect as given in this present

I had previously given it a title of my own, Nocturne for the Death of Lincoln; and in my Prefatory Notice

I reminded him of my original favor.

"Is my time at last here? Alas!" Was he curious to see the book?

I had and yet have a sort of idea that my books (I am getting ready, or about have ready, my completed

But my means, meagre at best, have gone, for my expenses since, and now, while not hitherto actually

bodily ills would seem to leave me—then I'dI would feel almost like my complete self again: what my

The misfortune of the case is, that he happens to be married to my sister. You know the Mrs.

side, who commerces my anxieties, troubles, trials—my brotherly affections—and my sister there, she

Why," he added, "I always went in my early days to the 25-cent place in the theatre, and it was my breath

My early life especially was full of it.

My intimate friends would have their best fun with a man who brought them such a doubt!"

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

.: "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.

My dear William & Nelly O'Connor, I write a few lines to tell you how I find the folks at home—Both my

My brother would be in what I would almost call fair condition, if it were not that his legs are affected—it

I find myself perplexed about printing my book.

My brother Jeff wishes me to give you his sincerest thanks for your good will &c in the matter of the

My sister at Burlington Vt. is not well, & mother will probably pay a long visit there this summer.

though shining out very brightly by fits and starts, seemed incapable of conveying any warmth, I took my

hat, which I was able to keep on my head not without considerable effort.

My flesh quivered with the bitter coldness of the air. My breath appeared steam. Qu-foo-o!

I gave an extra pull of my hat over my brows—a closer adjustment of my collar around my shoulders, and

way homeward, imbue my fancy with a kindred glee and joyousness!

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!

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!