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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!

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

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

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 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

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 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.

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

I was in hopes that you would not hear of our Regts being in the fight untill you got my letter.

How my name came to be in the papers I cant see, as I was very careful not to report myself in the list

of wounded in my company, but I think Colonel Potter who saw the scratch on my face, must have aded

my name to the list little thinking I suppose how much uneasyness it would cause at home.

Jeff write me often, and give my love to all. George W.

Also said: "I have great faith in my power of endurance.

I have no doubt now but I shall hold out my time—that is, I shall not hasten my death by anything I do

cause—make my cause theirs: quite a cluster.

It was a tempting offer—it pulled at my heart-strings: my friends over there all said, come, you will

Even some of my friends here said, go: and some were angry when I decided not to: but my own heart never

close, as we have had real winter here, snow & bad weather, & bad walking—I have been quite alone, as my

off to Delaware on Wednesday on a Christmas visit, to return to-morrow, Saturday—I am about the same—My

strength still keeps quite encouraging—I think is better than any time yet—my walking no better, & still

a good deal of distress in the head—but, as I said in my letter of Monday last, (did you get it Tuesday

is so much complicated machinery about one of these heaters with all the late improvements—give me my

Camden Friday Evn'g Oct: 19 '88 It is dark & I have had my dinner & am sitting by the fire & gas light—anchor'd

& tied in my old big democratic chair & room, the same as all summer, now in the fall & soon the long

winter & (if I live) probably through all—I have been occupied most of the afternoon writing my autographs—there

are to be 600 for the Edition of my complete writings—it will be ab't 900 pages, & include all —a last

I wait with anxiety—I told you ab't my dear friend John Burroughs being here—he is now back at West Park

Walt Whitman Dear Friend I am now at my own home but hav not got my discharge yet.

I have to go back to rochester to get my discharge. the day that I left thare went to the patent ofice

them kicked me on the forehead and then they start to run and the wagon wheel struck me on the back of my

My friends their respects Please if get this rite and if you will Please to sennd me that potographs

all alone in the house , & have had a good time—fine bright warm day—been out twice for short walks, (my

little dog accompanying me)—rest of the time up here alone in my 3d story south room—done up & sent

off my two books to a subscriber in England —Eat my dinner alone, wished you could be with me then, &

them—About coming on I cannot say now, but I shall come , & before long —Love to Mr and Mrs Nash—Love to you my

I do not forget what I am owing to you, and try in every way to raise something towards discharging my

In order to tide over the dullness, I have accepted proofreading outside of my business, altho' although

My business is in the hands of a rural boy, & I attend to my correspondence from 4 A.M. till 6:30 A.M

But my mortification at having to ask you to wait, under all the circumstances, is very great.

My visits to you this winter have been such a pleasure to me & it is one of my greatest regrets in leaving

I can hardly realize that I shall see all my dear family so soon.

Please give my love to Mrs. Davis, & keep a great deal for yourself, my dear, dear friend.

But I have a good fire in my office, have just had a good dinner of roast turkey and potatoes boiled

Augustine Birrell), so I feel that I can defy the Pope the Devil and the Pretender—(an old expression of my

the same blessing"—seriously I trust all is going well with you—and with the big book —I hope to get my

There is nothing further from Gurd and I feel my patience wearing thin again—all quiet and going well

is a year today since our fire—hope it will be a good many untill until the next —I had a proof of my

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

. /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

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

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.

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

earliest convenience, to return my answers thereto in writing.

Before my appointment to my present office, I was a lawyer.

In my youth, before my first entering the public service, I had not adopted a permanent occupation. 5

I was educated by my parents, and by solitary study. 6.

The law clerk's hours are similar to my own.

December 3, 1867.My dear Mr.

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

I boil: burn up: but often I keep my mouth shut: I am a slow mover: I don't hurry even in my tantrums

That infernal damned meter's getting on my nerves.

"My head and my heels tell me so."

; Or rude in my home in Dakotah's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring; Or withdrawn to muse

place, with my own day, here.

My comrade!

my intrepid nations! O I at any rate include you all with perfect love!

steamers steaming through my poems!

miner in California; Or rude in my home in Dakota's woods, my diet meat, my drink from the spring; Or

place, with my own day, here.

My comrade!

my intrepid nations! O I at any rate include you all with perfect love!

steamers steaming through my poems!

home in Kanuck woods, Or wandering and hunting, my drink water, my diet meat, Or withdrawn to muse and

In the Year 80 of The States, My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air, Born

Take my leaves, America!

My comrade!

steamers steaming through my poems!

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.

As usual, having to answer my question, he spoke first of his health.

They would come over to interview me—insist on knowing my sensations!

(my book). Glad to hear of your new books. Am still reading proof.

But read the letters: I'd rather refresh my memory a bit with 'em." 36, Marlborough Hill,St.

Not that of 1855; for I hear that can be had for three or four.When at my friend Mr. W. B.

R Bedford Penn a Pennsylvania July 31st 85 My Dear Mr Whitman I am here in these mountains and all around

I will follow in the footsteps of my parents as in their young days they did the very same thing.

Having been told so many times at my mothers knee of how she did these things when she was young.

Soul to do these things over again as my parents did them.

I see many friends and many who were friends of my Father and Mother.

I wish you would see that the printer puts all names of books into italics , as my copy indicated.

One thing I must beg, that you will restore to its place in the text so much of Emerson's letter as my

It is absolutely necessary to my point on Cook that the letter should stand right up there and face him

entirely to my taste.

It is probable that my state is reaction from the severe work of the winter at Washington.

mornin dated the 13 and was very glad to hear from yo i am not very well i have good dele of pain in my

away an then we must all sooner or later give up this world— i had a few lines from home this morning my

little girl is sick and i feeling bad to think that i cant see her now but my prays is that she may

start for elickazandry [Alexandria] to the convalesent camp if i could get to the city i could get my

discharge but i cant father i thank yo for seeing about my discriptave list for they owe me now six

My dear friend, I rec'd your first letter of about a month ago, (March 9)—I enquired of a friend in the

it miscarry,) but let that go— The changes in the Attorney Gen's office have made no difference in my

Browning—I couldn't wish to have better bosses—& as to the pleasantness & permanency of my situation

My dear friends, I often think about you all—Helen & Emily in particular, & wish I could look in upon

you, Sunday afternoons—I warmly thank you for your hospitable offers—Give my best respects to Mr.

26Come, said my Soul… Proof with signature.loc.00183xxx.00596Come, Said My Soul1881poetryhandwritten1

On verso reads "Copyright 1881, By Walt Whitman, All rights reserved" Come, Said My Soul

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