Search Results

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!

as two—as my soul and I; and I gu reckon it is the same with all oth men and women.— I know that my

trousers around my boots, and my cuffs back from my wrists and go among the rough drivers and boatmen

I tell you just as beautiful to die; For I take my death with the dying And my birth with the new-born

lips, to the palms of my hands, and whatever my hands hold.

hands, and my head my head mocked with a prickly I am here after I remember crucifixion and bloody coronation

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

, 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.

- 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!)

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!

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

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

Ah my silvery beauty—ah my woolly white and crimson! Ah to sing the song of you, my matron mighty!

EARLY in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refreshed with sleep, Behold me where I pass—hear my

voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.

farewell my beloved sons farewell i have lived beyond all comfort in this world dont mourn for me my

beloved sons and daughters farewel my dear beloved walter Louisa Van Velsor Whitman to Walt Whitman,

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.

"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.

HERE the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself

do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.

HERE the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself

do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.

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.

7 196 My touch hand will not hurt what it holds, and yet will devour it, That It must remain whole perfect

Only one minute, only two or three passing bulging sheathed touches, Yet they gather all of me and my

spirit into a knot, They hold us so long enough there, to show us what life we can be,— And that my

senses and our flesh, and even a part of flesh, is seems more than all life.— What has become of my senses

My hand will not hurt

Jersey, Feb 20–1874 Friday afternoon—2½ Dear boy Pete, Well Pete, dear son, I have just had my dinner

(stewed chicken & onions—good,) & here I sit again in the same old chair, in the parlor, writing my

time comes— Have not written any for publication the past fortnight—have not felt at all like writing—My

—I have a poem in the March Harper —as I believe I mentioned in my last.

Take care of yourself my darling boy— Your old Walt, as always.

Dear friend, Breaking up a few weeks since, and for good, my New York stagnation—wandering since through

camp and battle scenes—I fetch up here in harsh and superb plight—wretchedly poor, excellent well, (my

matters,)—realizing at last that it is necessary for me to fall for the time in the wise old way, to push my

wish you would write for me something like the enclosed form of letter, that I can present, opening my

It is pretty certain that, armed in that way, I shall conquer my object.

My dear Hiram Ramsdell: Mr.

—In respect to Judge Kelly, & his matter, I had already formed my opinion & made out my Report several

I hope it may happen one day that I may have him near at hand, that we get to be friends—such is in my

—There is nothing new in my affrairs—all goes on as usual in the office. I am well.

passed, & that I shall be better in a day or two—I feel so today already—& soon about as usual— No my

I wish dear Alys would take This side the earliest convenient opportunity to give my excuses & love to

very lonesome here—If I had not been born with a happy-tending natural disposition (I inherit it from my

heaviness to me—As it is, the ennuyeed hours have been the rare exceptions— Then about the shows of life & my

strong, with weightiest animality & appetites, or I should go off in a balloon—Well luckily for you my

My Dear Walt, As you see by my address I am staying with a great friend of yours.

I posted a copy of my book to you about a week ago: I hope that you will read it and tell me how you

As yet, I have not taken my passage, but I hope to come early in May, and to spend a nice slice of my

Wilson of Glasgow, encouraging me to go on & get subscribers for my "Walt Whitman,"— saying that I may

you be willing (I hardly dare to ask it) to send me for two yr book of addresses (sent by Express at my

(I keep up my bibliogr. record always (in the "Whitman")] I made a trip to the art museum recently to

Baxter has gone to Arizona, & left bust in my care.

Kennedy My idea is to charge $5. or a guinea for the vol. & print it in good style.

lost] yesterday and was glad to heer from yo and yo were en Joying good helth as for me i am not well my

very slow the warm wether chafed me all to peces and now with all the rest i have got a large boil on my

left knee my famly is well my little girl has ben quite sick but is well agen— the wether has ben very

and came horn and kep hid 3 weeks thare is 30 dollars reward on him i think they had or to hang him my

Dear friend Walt Not knowing what they were agoing to do with me until thursday last is my excuse for

Thursday I expected my dischar[g]e so that I could start Friday but on going to the office I found that

knew that they had gone up and when the truth was known he knew nothing about it thursday afternoon my

papers wer sent in to the ward for me to go before Bliss he examined me and told me I could have my

Sutler's and back (Walt it is useless for me to try to tell you how much i have missed you at night when my

Dear brother, You did not write any answer to my last two letters, now quite a while ago, still I will

I still remain here in Washington, finding just about work enough to pay my expenses.

he has returned from his furlough, he told me a few days ago he had written to you, & had sent you my

best respects—I told him he must never send my respects to you but always my love.

My dear Mr.

With regard to re-printing my book in full in England I can only say that of course it would be gratifying

copyright might be legalized here—If so, this might be worth considering in reference to the reprint of my

February or March, I am not certain which, I understand it has a criticism on my book, from a believer

My address is Solicitor's Office, Treasury, Washington, D. C.—U.S.A.

My dear friend, My book has been delayed among the printers,—but I shall stay till it is all printed—it

fellows & willing enough—but it seems impossible to prevent them making lots of ridiculous errors—it is my

My mother is pretty well for an old woman of 72—John, I hope this will find you, & the wife too in good

I send you both my love.

Liptay Care of Otto Behrens 140 Eighth avenue New York City I wrote to Nelly about a week ago, stating my

day—rather a curious fellow—a great bully, vehement, loud words & plenty of them (the very reverse of my

valued Dr Drinkard)—& yet I value what he says & does for me—He is inclined to think the seat of all my

been out, except just in front of the house in the sun, & only three times that—but don't be alarmed, my

dear friend—the probabilities are, (in my opinion any how,) that I shall get partially well yet— The

, 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!

early in the morning, Walking forth from the bower, refresh'd with sleep; Behold me where I pass—hear my

voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass; Be not afraid of my Body.