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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.

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

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

"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

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!

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.

Small the Theme of My Chant. From the 1867 edition L. of G. SMALL THE THEME OF MY CHANT.

Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest—namely, One's- Self One's-Self —a simple, separate person

My Days I sing, and the Lands—with interstice I knew of hap- less hapless War.

Atlantic Av Your essay on Democracy stirred the depths within me I would say no flatering word to you my

I am unlearned and cannot see the same thoughts so as to form them in my mind yet their power is clear

on Earth and good will to man) was it ( Glory to God in the highest )—perhaps so if I had have put my

What a boon is Life. how glad I am every day that I am priveledged privileged to be one among my fellows

White Hall, Ky. 7-9-1887 My dear Mr.

I enclose my address at Yale University delivered before the Alumni & whole College .

As but 15 minutes were allowed, I have barely been able to state my views without discussion.

I have but the moment to return you my thanks—I wish you all happiness. Truly C. M.

1309 Fifth av: near 86th Street May 28 '79 My dear Sir Yours of May 23d has reach'd me here—I am unable

or what office, in Huntington I think, or who keeps them, I can not say—Yes I was born at West Hills—my

father Walter Whitman—I trace the Whitmans there four generations—my grandmother (father's mother) was

Hannah Brush I am here on a visit—go back, last of next week, to Camden New Jersey, my regular p o address

I have lent my copy to others.

Now you may call me a fool for my request, but if you will comply with it, I shall be just as well satisfied

I wish to frame it, to hang in my room, in company with a autograph of Charles Mackay, another of my

Kirkwood N J New Jersey May 17 Dear John Burroughs I am passing a good part of my time down here at the

Still keep well for me & jolly—am all tann'd tanned & sunburnt—Eat my rations every time— I was up yesterday

to Camden to get my mail—& found the book —read it all over with appreciative & I think critical eyes—my

front room down stairs, well wrapt up—for though bright & sunny it is a cold freezing day—have had my

usual—ups & downs—had rather a bad day yesterday—lay on the lounge most of the day—now better—the worst is my

time—Spirits & heart though mainly gay, which is the best half of the battle —Love & comfort to you, my

friends—your wives & all—Write often as you can—(monotony is now the word of my life)— Walt Whitman

HERE the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest- lasting strongest-lasting : Here I shade down and

hide my thoughts—I 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 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.

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

Dear boy Pete, Well, I am sitting here in the parlor again writing my weekly letter—as I write, the rain

feeling pretty bad, but it seems to be mostly from a severe cold in the head—anyhow I am having one of my

bad spells, of which I have gone through so many—had a bad night last night—but have eat my breakfast

week, & I have enjoyed sailing across the Delaware, & the splendid sunsets most every evening—it is my

you scratch down, as I sit here a great deal of the time, (& time is dull & lonesome, at the best)— My

My dear Sir, When a man has ventured to dedicate his work to another without authority or permission,

This must be my excuse for sending to you the crude poem in wh. which you may perchance detect some echo

Grass in a friend's rooms at Trinity College Cambridge six years ago till now, your poems have been my

What one man can do by communicating to those he loves the treasure he has found, I have done among my

I fear greatly I have marred the purity & beauty of your thought by my bad singing.

York Saturday July 6 p m Dear son I supposed you rec'd a paper from me lately with an acc't of some of my

this forenoon to Sarony's, the great photographic establishment, where I was invited to come & sit for my

picture—had a real pleasant time—I will bring you on one of the pictures— My darling boy, I want to

Bethel had confessed to poisoning the Bishops—I will finish my letter & send it off to-morrow— Sunday

10th street,) is a fine, good bright child, not very rugged, but gets along very well—I take him in my

eye-works have resumed operations pretty nearly same as before—I see out of both now & a great blessing in my

getting along comfortably—the weather has been bad as can be & the traveling ditto, for three weeks past, my

last half-annual return of royalties for both my books just —$20.71cts —the death of Mrs.

she had the finest & perfectest nature I ever met—Glad to hear ab't about the Channing's —Give them my

love—I am scribbling in my little front room down stairs—the parrot has been squalling & the canary

Dear Brother, I have just finished a letter to mother, and while my hand is in, I will write you a line

I enclose in my letter to Mother, a note from Hyde —nothing at all in it, except that Han is well, and

, it seems to me, like relieving me of a great weight—or removing a great obstacle that has been in my

go-ahead fellows, and don't seem to have the least doubt they are bound to make a good spec. out of my

I am very well, and hold my own about as usual.

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

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.

"My health?

My income is just sufficient to keep my head above water—and what more can a poet ask?

"My opinion of other American poets?

"My religion? I should refuse to be called a materialist.

I recovered what I call my second wind from nature.

like to read—(T B Aldrich's also tho' short is very friendly & eulogistic—not sent here)— Nothing in my

, I have had a notion for, & now put out partly to occupy myself, & partly to commemorate finishing my

For the regard, the affection, which convoyed your noble argosy to this my haven,—believe me, my dear

Well: there is too much taking off of hats, but I certainly should doff my own to the Sun-God.

Pray give my kind regards to M. Traubel. Walt Whitman to William Sloane Kennedy, William D.

I have been busy with my pen, turning out pot-boilers, nothing else.

My opinion is that life is becoming pretty thin.

It will be my last volume—my finale—without a doubt.

So this will really be my good-bye!" Then into details.

My first point will be to get all the batch of copy—the poetry—into galleys at once: it probably would

withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip my

clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh

I do not see any of it upon you today—or per- haps perhaps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my

plough—I will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some

That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues!

March 26 1874 Thursday afternoon 2½ —I have just had my dinner—roast beef, lima beans, graham-bread &

Pete your short letter came to-day, written on the cars—dear son, come whenever you can—As I said on my

My little dog is stretched out on the rug at full length, snoozing.

He hardly lets me go a step without being close at my heels—follows me in my slow walks, & stops or turns

Pleasant & bright weather—have been out on the side walk in front, once or twice, with my shawl around

The second copy of book & my lending one, has come safe—too—and the card that told of your attack of

illness, & the welcome news of your recovery in the Paper; & I have been fretting with impatience at my

own dumbness—but tied to as many hours a day writing as I could possibly manage, at my little book now

(last night)—finished, all but proofs, so that I can take my pleasure in "Specimen Days" at last; but

My love to brother & sister & to Hattie [&] Jessie. Good-bye, dear Walt.

weaks weeks ago last summer I was in brooklyn & I hunted for you but could not find you I mad made up my

is night now & I was agoing to the villiage tomorrow So I thought I would write A few lines to you my

halth health is good & so is my family I have got three boys & one girl the way that I came to be in

me this spring I ame am owing some debts that I no whether I can pay them or not this spring one of my

stock youre your letters was directed rite right the two firts first years of my mairage marriage my

"My today's mail has been chiefly an autograph mail.

Not a day but the autograph hunter is on my trail—chases me, dogs me!

I settle myself in my chair, get the glasses on my nose, and lo! every note is for an autograph.

Amer—about April 10, I shall return here again and my address will be—— I am writing this at my desk—as

My mind advises me that I must suspend operations for to-nighttonight.

I shall never know, of course: I know no language but my own.

My whole—not exactly that: my best—knowledge of Hugo was derived from that man."

My father was Walter. He had a right to Walter.

My sister had sent W. some cakes.

All my feeling is against it. My feeling decides the day."

I do not want anything my fault to interfere with your progress.

It never quite approves itself to my eyes but I yield.

"I shall like to have it right here where I can put my hands on it—and my eyes."

Then we need title pages for your set and Bucke's and my own, and contents for all.

yes, Redpath was always partial to me—even went out of his way to curl my hair.

My dear Sir:Dr.

Bucke left me, to my publisher Schabelitz, of Zurich, Switzerland, and offered the MS. to him.

Rolleston accept my assistance and wait so long. Shall I write to him, or will you do it?

Clifford saw my father's picture of W. for the first time at my sister's Sunday—thought it the best he

"My dear daddy used to advise me—my boy always keep on good terms with the cook."

hitherto publish'd—from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my

Soul; Clear to me, now, standards not yet publish'd—clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, Afternoon, this delicious Ninth-month, in my

first forty-first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men, To tell the secret of my

publish'd—from the pleasures, profits, eruditions, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my

soul; Clear to me, now, standards not yet publish'd—clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, Afternoon, this delicious Ninth-month, in my

forty-first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men, To tell the secret of my nights

Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!

with the dancers, and drink with the drinkers; The echoes ring with our indecent calls; I take for my

love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he

one condemn'd by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my

hitherto publish'd, from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my

soul, Clear to me now standards not yet publish'd, clear to me that my soul, That the soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing hence types of athletic love, Afternoon this delicious Ninth-month in my

forty-first year, I proceed for all who are or have been young men, To tell the secret of my nights

Give me the drench of my passions! Give me life coarse and rank!

dancers, and drink with the drink- ers drinkers , The echoes ring with our indecent calls, I take for my

love some prostitute—I pick out some low person for my dearest friend, He shall be lawless, rude, illiterate—he

one condemned by others for deeds done; I will play a part no longer—Why should I exile myself from my

hitherto published—from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed to my

Soul Clear to me now, standards not yet published— clear to me that my Soul, That the Soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing, hence, types of athletic love, 29* Afternoon, this delicious Ninth Month, in my

forty- first year, I proceed, for all who are, or have been, young men, To tell the secret of my nights

hitherto publish'd, from the pleasures, profits, conformities, Which too long I was offering to feed my

soul, Clear to me now standards not yet publish'd, clear to me that my soul, That the soul of the man

substantial life, Bequeathing hence types of athletic love, Afternoon this delicious Ninth-month in my

forty-first year, I proceed for all who are or have been young men, To tell the secret of my nights

evening March 8 Dear son, I thought I would write you just a short letter, if no more, as you are in my

I sometimes come to the office nights, to read, it is so quiet—and now I am sitting here at my desk,

So I thought of my dear boy, and will send a few words, though nothing particular to say.

Johnny, I send you my love, & good night for this time—the mail closes at 8, & it is some after 7 now

delighted to offer you $10 not so much as compensation for the service rendered—as an expression of my

Not having heard from you in any way I fear lest my letter may have gone astray. My friend Col.

If needful I could I think get a note of introduction to you from my friend John Burroughs — With great

Dear friend: I sent my article on you to Walsh some weeks ago—have not heard from him but assume he will

I am now bargaining with Roberts bros. thereto. — I am also writing dramas—my fourth and last is praised

I shall try to bring that out next spring— I send you my photo—it may be of interest to you—I had just

been lecturing upon your prose and the book in my hand is "Specimen Days."

enough—I get down to the river side at sunset in wheel chair & if the evn'g is pleasant stay an hour—had my

tea—(eat only two meals a day)—miss Alys a good deal —sell a book occasionally—am sitting here now in my

den in Mickle St. in my big chair all comfortable quiet out—my last poem piece was rejected & sent back

have just been reading your Monday's note for the second time—& will write a line in rejoinder, with my

out of the gurgling brook, just as I sit here, half shade, half in the warm sun, as I sit here after my

I am still pretty well,—Still enjoy my natural days here, by the creek—(but they are now drawing to a

Herby is well & brown—Shall be up in good time to be with with my dear neices nieces & all of you—I wonder