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of fresh air, have since had a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast and am now (630 P.M.) sitting at my

desk in my office at the Asylum.

Sometimes as I read it I feel as if my whole previous life were rolling en masse through me and as if

Tomorrow I give my 7 th lecture to the students—one more will end the course for this year.

We are all well I send you my best love R M Bucke Richard Maurice Bucke to Walt Whitman, 8 December 1889

My dear Walt, The books are duly delivered.

Meanwhile I am up to my eyes—and over my eyes even to blindness—in the slough of a fearful road to that

plainer English I am fighting like a thousand Humans to establish the Saturday Press, and have for my

My brother George will deliver this. He is of the right stamp. In haste Henry Clapp.

My dear Nelly, I sit down home here in the front basement alone to write you a few lines.

I find it makes a mighty difference in my visit—(What is home without—&c)— My dear little California

worse—the fourteen days are up next Sunday—meanwhile she grows weaker & weaker— I am middling well—My

I send my love to Charles Eldridge—same to Ashton—when you write tell me the latest from the baby & Mrs

. /76 My dear friend, I send you the enclosed piece (printed in a paper here, with my consent,) —quite

My theory is that the plain truth of the situation here is best stated.

Conway, Lord Houghton, &c I have lately heard from, but not seen, Marvin, my Boston friend.

I have about got ready my two Volumes —"Leaves of Grass" remains about the same, (a few new bits) "Two

Houghton wrote to Joaquin Miller on September 1, 1875, from Chicago: "Please give my best regards to

good week so far—am either throwing off (or easying) some of the worst bad subjections and grips — My

combined, comprehended at one glance—and here it is—of course I shall send you a copy— I am sitting yet in my

sick room now in my usual big chair by the oak wood fire, & alone.

I have plenty visitors enough & good ones—my appetite & sleep are fair—I have a new helper & nurse, a

I think of you every day—& most all my friends coming here ask ab't you—I rec'd the letter last week

Price, & all My dear friends, I sent you a telegram, ten minutes ago, telling you that I have just succeeded

In the office, & my work, every thing goes on as usual.

Helen & Emmy, my dear friends, I send you my best love—Go over & see my mother when you can—Best remembrance

Washington February 4 1865 My dear friend, As you see by the date of this, I am again back in Washington

I spend a portion of my time around among the Hospitals as formerly—I find quite a good many bad old

My health is pretty good, & I remain in good spirits considering.

I send my love to Emily and Helen and all— Walt Whitman Direct to me simply to Washington, D.

C. as I go to post office for my letters. Walt Whitman to Abby H. Price, 4 February 1865

alternations—not perhaps quite as well, of late, (the last ten or twelve days)—& yet I dont don't abandon my

& hope— feel to , which is a main thing with me—I have a good deal of pain, more or less steady, in my

been so since—(though not enough to prevent me from eating some nice stewed oysters in moderation for my

needlessly apprehensive, Nelly dear—for I shall get better, & we will meet yet— When you write tell me about my

Tell me all the news—tell me about Charles Eldridge—& all my other friends.

, through my consciousness since I commenced to be untrammeled in thought: he has given me views which

help to render my 'dark days' endurable and my nights teem with companions.

He travels with me and he points out the goodness of men and things and he intensifies my pleasures by

I thought I knew the greatest American in my dear friend Henry George, but no!

any extreme statement, he seems to hit several real proper nails on their heads—gets pretty close to my

Myrick set up at my insistence alternative title-pages.

Fairchild writes me as follows: May 4 My dear Mr.

Pray give my love and a goodby to W. W.

"My benison attend her! How always nobly good she is to us! A rare woman, every way."

(the only one I can lay my hands on at present) taken some time ago by Johnston in my little room in

I began to feel very much numbed with the cold, and my eyes suffered a good deal from the glare of the

I was now only able to take three steps at a time without stopping, as my legs began to give way, and

I attribute my being able to reach the top to my wind; I never felt want of breath at any time, while

M., with my hands cut to bits, my nails worn to the quick with holding on, I reached the hut and there

One of my eyes is completely 'bunged up,' the other just enables me to see to write this.

London May 18, 1875 My dearest Friend, Since last I wrote to you at the beginning of April (enclosing

at Colne) I have been into Wales for a fortnight to see Percy & have looked, for the first time in my

That is the end of my long story.

My children are all well & growing & unfolding to my heart's content.

Goodbye my dearest Friend. A. Gilchrist. Anne Gilchrist to Walt Whitman, 18 May 1875

Last week my brother, Percy, who is an actor, came up to town with the news that he was going off to

He sails to-morrow afternoon by the "Norham Castle" from Blackwall, & to-day my Father & Mother, anxious

It is absurd that I have never yet found my way to France.

Yesterday I went down to Blackwall to see my brother stowed safely on board the "Norham Castle."

The other day he & his father drove round here, & in my absence carried off Edith, who had never seen

I have written & sent my application to Mr Otto, & also a few lines to Mr Ashton, with a copy of it.

I am most desirous to get the appointment, as enclosing, with the rest of the points, my attentions to

the soldiers & to my poems, as you intimate.

Still Leaves of Grass is dear to me, always dearest to me, as my first born, as daughter of my life's

Not a word for over three months from my brother George —the probabilities are most gloomy.

- ward southward , Alone, held by this eternal self of me, out of the pride of which I have utter'd my

Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south, drop't, to follow those slender winrows, Chaff, straw,

I take what is underfoot; What is yours is mine, my father.

I throw myself upon your breast, my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you

from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last! See—the prismatic colors, glistening and rolling!)

, 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!

The Daily Tribune Denver, Colorado, Mch 27th 187 8 Mr Walt Whitman My Dear Sir I am one of those ubiquitous

Now if you could take a peep into my album, which I have been over fifteen years in making, and see my

If you have made a rule never to reply to requests of this kind, please make an exception in my case

My dear Dr. Channing: I yesterday received your kind note.

My leave of absence continues for some time yet, & I should probably like to visit you for a few days

I send my best respects & love to Mrs. Channing.

I wish you & wife to read my last piece in The Broadway London Magazine for October.

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was conceal'd— press forth, red drops—confession

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

from me falling, drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face, from my forehead and lips, From my breast, from within where I was conceal'd, press forth red

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

, from me falling—drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face—from my forehead and lips, From my breast—from within where I was conceal'd —press forth, red drops—confession

AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

my blue veins leaving! O drops of me!

from me falling, drip, bleeding drops, From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my

face, from my forehead and lips, From my breast, from within where I was conceal'd, press forth red

"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.

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.

to file a map of their route, etc., has been withdrawn, and that therefore there is no necessity for my

This Opinion was then considered by me as my final action upon the subject.

argument upon such facts, not intending to reëxamine the questions unless such facts should be brought to my

Co. not at any request, but, as I suppose, for my convenience in the event that cause for revising the

My consent to hear further argument on new facts was not intended as a recall of the Opinion, or as a

shape like "Fancies at Navesink"—that ("November Boughs") is the name, by the by, I think of giving my

summer cottage fund —(dear Boyle, if you see him say I sent my best love & thanks)—I wish you fellows

be put of course to that definite single purpose, & there I shall probably mainly live the rest of my

tainted here, five or six months in the year, at best —As I write Herbert Gilchrist is here sketching in my

oil painting—I hear from Dr Bucke often—nothing now of late from O'Connor , who is still in So: Cal—My

Dec. 2, 1866 My dear Whitman: I find your book and cordial letter, on returning home from a lecturing

I have had the first edition of your Leaves of Grass among my books, since its first appearance, and

frankly, that there are two things in it which I find nowhere else in literature, though I find them in my

There is not one word of your large and beautiful sympathy for men, which I cannot take into my own heart

I say these things, not in the way of praise, but because I know from my own experience that correct

new, all strange, & very mixed; but I am now fairly master of the situation, & though I do not expect my

I was so warm & snug & my nest was so well feathered; but I have really cut loose & do not expect to

My greatest loss will be in you my dear Walt, but then I shall look forward to having you up here a good

to close up this bank, then I shall make me another nest among the rocks of the Hudson and try life my

I hope you are well & will write to me, & will go up & see my wife.

Camden Monday 9 A M '89 Am sitting here just ended my breakfast, an egg, some Graham bread & coffee—all

wh' I relish'd—rec'd my morning mail, & send you this f'm Dr B —with my scribbling on back—fine sunny

hours down to the Delaware shore, high water)—sky & river never look'd finer—was out also at one p m to my

bottle of champagne—(lunch, or dinner, but I ate nothing)—So you see I am getting around sort o' in my

summer—I want to get out somewhere (sea side or mountains) but it is a fearful job for me to be moved from my

Who Learns My Lesson Complete? WHO LEARNS MY LESSON COMPLETE? WHO learns my lesson complete?

as every one is im- mortal immortal ; I know it is wonderful, but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and

how I was conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful, And pass'd from a babe in the creeping

And that my soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and

Who Learns My Lesson Complete? WHO LEARNS MY LESSON COMPLETE? WHO learns my lesson complete?

as every one is im- mortal immortal ; I know it is wonderful, but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and

how I was conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful, And pass'd from a babe in the creeping

And that my soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and

Holsman Mansion Passaic, New Jersey 9 June '79 My dear Mr Whitman, I got yours of the 24th ult. & also

I enclose a copy of the selections you made from my journal, and also an account of the information Miss

for those loose sheets which I used sometimes to resort to, partly because I was accustomed to write my

, & it strikes me I have in my portfolios much that is better than that, unprinted.

office in the city, as my letters are forwarded every day.

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

My sister sent him in a jar of the clams recommended by Burroughs when here.

I was to take this to my father who was to make a design for it.

He answered: "I still ask my old question: did it ever go?"

Philp starts from Washington this evening so I must cut short my letter.

dear sir, please accept with my trust in the success of the enterprise my kindest respects to yourself

Leaves of Grass, "I Wander All Night in My Vision," Leaves of Grass.

My hands are spread forth . . 

I descend my western course . . . . my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I

darn my grandson's stockings.

though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death.

when I visited the Asylum and they showed me their most smeared and slobbering idiot, Yet I knew for my

for my consolation, of the great laws that emptied and broke my my brother s Whitman probably drafted

Camden New Jersey June 8 '76 My dear Ward, I have rec'd your friendly & generous subscription, $50, for

5 sets of my Books, & thank you heartily.

Grass —with some other little Vols—slips, duplicate engravings of self—& a special Photo. prepared by my

for your studio) As the very limited first issue of my new edition is about to be exhausted, your other

AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

WANDERING at morn, Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts, Yearning for thee

Thee coil'd in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay, with every meanness, treason thrust

its young, The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic, Fail not to certify and cheer my

If vermin so transposed, so used and bless'd may be, Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my

AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

WANDERING at morn, Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts, Yearning for thee

Thee coil'd in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay, with every meanness, treason thrust

its young, The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic, Fail not to certify and cheer my

If vermin so transposed, so used and bless'd may be, Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my

"It is amazing—or at least tantalizing—how many important matters slip my mind.

My memory for new things is becoming less and less dependable—markedly so."

On my way to the Whitman meeting in Philadelphia W. advised me, upon my questioning: "Should you feel

moved to say anything, tell them, you came here this evening, found me here on the lower floor, in my

, massage—by my young friend here"—he will never say nurse—"who knows well how to handle me—knows to

But in any case after you get this letter, my address will be care of my nephew in Boston which I will

I shall make a few short stops with nieces & others till I return home, & as my nephew is a fixture,

But I try to keep up a good heart, & not to worry my friends with my troubles.

I have one hope that I am clinging to, and that is that my sister Mrs. Channing may come on.

I send my address on the enclosed slip. With love always— Nelly O'Connor.

England Oct 24 th 1891 My Dear good Friend, My best thanks to you for yr kind p.c. of Oct 12 rec d two

Harned —the latter in acknowledgement of the copy of my "Notes I sent."

Last night I deliverd my Lecture on "My trip to America" & shewed all my pictures by the oxyhydrogen,

sweethearts & their wives & succeeded in holding their interest for an hour & a half while I talked about my

He afterwards came along & had tea with my wife & me & we were joined by R. K.

In his March 9, 1892, letter to Traubel, Greenhalgh wrote that "Walt has taught me 'the glory of my daily

In all the departments of my life Walt entered with his loving personality & I am never alone" (Horace

Dresden '83 My dear Master I got your post card last Tuesday morning.

Yet in writing my essay, I had no thought of him, nor had mentioned him.

As to my translation of the I am now ready to cooperate with any competent German, i.e.

Perhaps my essay when published may lead to something. I got Dr. Bucke's book.

I will send him my essay when it appears. Nothing more to say now.

March 19, 1873 Walt Whitman Dear friend, By my sister Nell's request I send you today by mail the best

copy I could find of my Medical Electricity.

more pretentious books, published by medical electricilians electricians in this country who have made my

I wrote to my sister my haunting fear that you might use electricity prematurely & incautiously & I rejoiced

I for one have felt my indebtedness to you for great thoughts & words more than ever before.

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

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, 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!

Scented Herbage of My Breast SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, 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!