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431 Stevens street Camden N J July 11 p m My dear friend I kept staying & staying in N Y (four weeks
altogether)—but took the 4 p m train yesterday & had a fine run to Philadelphia—So here I am to-day today in my
a great accumulation of letters—all those of the past month—so you will understand several things (my
going down to White Horse Saturday —No letter from Bee yet—I suppose you the Tribune of July 4 with my
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seek- ing seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering
it where it flits, How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; But in these, and among my
lovers, and carolling my songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.
could not or would not understand their deeper meaning, nor recognize their subtler beautiesRepeating my
I send papers to friends and friends of my friends—often to people I have never met.
Detailed the incident: "It was my old Alabama admirer, who came up here several years ago—was talked
My old friend did not cease his admiration, so far as I know.
Referring to use of words, W. remarked: "In my abolition days, some of my friends were furious at my
My beloved Walt—I have read the sublime poem of the Universal once and again, and yet again—seeing it
It raised my mind to its own sublimity. It seems to me the sublimest of all your poems.
Now I would like to see you, in order to temper my heart, and expand my narrowness.How absurd it is to
The note is below:"Go on, my dear Americans, whip your horses to the utmost—Excitement; money!
He put four of them in a paper bag and gave them to me for my mother.
Thanks to you both.I had planned to have some leisure at my command to write you a fairly long letter
at Johnston's—sitting up with him till after 1, both loathe to separate.I read the College some of my
of & gratitude for all your kindness by my cold, undemonstrative passiveness—"the cold silent manner
you both love & blessing.All the time I was in Camden I felt it all too deeply—beyond my capacity to
wil gradually take its due place & proportion & perspective in my mind.
PRIMEVAL my love for the woman I love, O bride ! O wife !
Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born, The ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation
, I ascend—I float in the regions of your love, O man, O sharer of my roving life.
hold out,—walking or like, than for nearly now four years—bad enough yet, but still decidedly better —(My
accident (I mean the victory in battles) than it is generalship— —Pete I am sitting up here alone in my
snap of the last three days very well—to-day has been moderate & nice here—Nothing new or special in my
affairs—I am selling a few of my books (the new 2 Vol. 10 dollar edition) from time to time—mostly to
English & Irish purchasers—it is quite funny how many of my books are sent for from Ireland — Love to
Now I am out here, and circumstances contrary to my wishes, will keep me here indefinitely.
This is one of my homesick days, and I have been thinking over what there is in the north that I would
When I read I say "Yes, I am she, O you wise poet," and sometimes I think I must put out my hand for
and I am sure that we have gone together down that brown road a great many times; and perhaps it was my
I am very glad my eyes found the message you hid away for me—hid so deeply, though, that I barely found
My dear old friend Mr. Whitman So many years have passed since we last saw each other.
that you remember me , and the old home on M.Street —and the dear old "Cherry Tree" " where you and my
Sevellon Brown, Sackett my son were there also.
Although many years have passed since you lived at my house and many changes have come to us, still,
hope this may reach you, it would give me a great deal of pleasure to know that you remember me and my
May 11 / 89 Dear Walt: Yesterday on my way up to Olive to see my wife's father, who is near the end of
for some time, yet it was a stunning blow for all that I know how keenly you must feel it, & you have my
No words come to my pen adequate to express the sense of the loss we have we suffered in the death of
Drop me a line my dear friend if you are able to do so.
March 30th 1870 Dear respected friend Feeling assured that any information of my doings and whereabouts
will meet with only the kindest reception from you, I venture once more, after my long silence, to address
If any excuse be neccessary necessary , let my respect and esteem be that excuse.
himself"; but I note telling you facts) and have just entered upon the study of Law; In conseq uence of my
Though we enjoyed our homeless life in Washington I think I have enjoyed my more wandering life since
a better account of your health yet, hoped that you were beginning to get around as usual, and like my
Alma Tadema the most celebrated artist over here has written to congratulate me over my last picture
It is rather a feather in my cap—and will perhaps prove a turning point in my artistic career, who knows
I lead a quiet but moderately varied life and am able to enjoy my work and possess one or two friends
June 17 th , 68 My dear Walt, Your letter of inquiry and of the good old feeling has this moment reached
My heart warms towards Mr. Burroughs for his friendly words. I know I should love to meet him.
Don't fail my dear friend to call on me when you come to New York.
My dear old friend I love you—I shall be proud to hear from you at all times, and quick to reply— Charles
My picture, of which I sent you a notice will rest in somnolence during the summer.
to hear that you have sick so long I have been sick with the Chills & Fever I have had wine to day my
20 of June so I am alone I am at the same employment yet I have plenty of work but the pay is small My
well before he went away he has been better cine they have been there they are near the Salt water my
wife is well the young Lady you met with me at the Cor Corner of Fulton and Cart Sts Streets that is my
Wednesday I went to Hartford to the reunion of the Vetrans Veterans and spent two days I met a good many of my
My dear Walt Whitman, I have just been reading your lines in the "Herald" for this morning, which hold
My adventures since leaving you have not been very startling, but they have been full of everyday life
Yesterday my good friend Cyrus Butler, a kind & wealthy old gentleman, took me quite a round of studios
Bucke's place on Wednesday, where I will look to send you a further note on my doings.
I have good news of my brother at last, & so am free to sail for England in a fortnight.
I could not have gone in any case, my wife was ill in bed & I had to go to Delaware Co County to examine
My own health is nothing to brag of, I thought the trouble was with my nervous system, but the doctor
finds it in my arterial; arteries hard & brittle, danger from apoplexy &c.
I have given up eating meat & have otherwise changed my habits—shall probably go out home in the spring
We have had cold & spiteful weather all the time of my visit here—over a month—& I have not had my usual
finds any difficulty—but I guess not—I guess he is getting along well—Is there any thing new among my
I have got out my new edition, from same plates as the last, only all bound in One Vol.
done in green cloth, vellum—looks the best & most ship-shape of any edition yet—have not added any of my
William is here—which adds much indeed to the pleasure of my visit—William has not recovered from an
Price & her girls are well & in good spirits—I am enjoying my vacation agreeably, but moderately—as becomes
a gentleman of my size & age.
Give my love to Mr. and Mrs.
My last letter to William was also to you—though I suppose you did not see it yet.
Camden July 12 '88 Thursday night after 9 It gets very tedious here—(I have now been in my room and bed
justify themselves—even for old habit, if nothing else— It was probably the sixth or seventh whack of my
war paralysis, and a pretty severe one—the doctors looked glum—Bucke I think saved my life as he happened
I am sitting up, had a fair night—rose late, have eaten my breakfast—have rec'd a good letter from O'C—nothing
Today my head thicks somewhat today. Love to you, dear friend.
He is my larger, greater, earlier self. No man alive seems quite so near to me" (280).
My dear friend, I suppose you saw my letter to William O'Connor, a week since, with notice of my safe
Give my best respects to Mrs.
There is nothing specially new or important among my folks—they all wish me to give their best regards
work and having my jaunts together.
I will call on you on my way back to New York.
So my dear old friend I have protected your interests to the best of my judgment and if you want me to
I would also like you to answer my letters.
All right my dear J.
notice, you Kanuck woods") became verses 6-10; and the lines on the half-page ("I am indifferent to my
correspond to verses 1-5 of the 1860 version, and those on the second page ("And when I thought how/ my
though I lie so sleepy and sluggish, my tap is death" (1855, p. 74).
It was later reprinted in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891), under the title American National Literature before
Is this my sorry face? I am not sorry—I am glad—for the world."
two or three days—so on: we were quite thick then: thick: when I had money it was as freely Bill's as my
two or three days—so on: we were quite thick then: thick: when I had money it was as freely Bill's as my
I am keen about all that myself—jealous of my right to fall down and break my neck if I choose."
He called my attention to the medallions, duly signed, tied up, with a label on the outside designating
them as my property.
I could not tell how to get it, but I can recognize my own when it appears."
My quarrel with the most of what purports to be history is that it is not history at all.
"It was all done, except for capping, in my time.
"Yes, it has all my fortunes! Watch, bankbook, pocketbook, everything."
I stood over him and dictated as he wrote—he making out check in my name.
figures, through which I have drawn my pencil.
As, in fact, I think is usually the case with my manuscript.
I remember I said to myself at the winter-close, before my leaves sprang at all, that I would become
a candid and unloosed summer-poet, I said I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to
what was promised, When each part is peopled with free people, When there is no city on earth to lead my
I have pressed through in my own right, I have offered my style to every one—I have jour- neyed journeyed
Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.
down & see you—sister & bro: at Burlington N J are well— own sister Burlington Vermont sick & poorly—my
Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to
Whitman: "Because you have, as it were, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my
"Walt Whitman's Last," an "explanation" of his book Good-Bye My Fancy (1891), was published in the August
tuesday Tuesday evenin evening My dear Walt i received your letter to day with the nice envelopes all
to any place where they live a long time) i am pretty well now i have been trouble d with a pain in my
Walt Whitman had written, "I have not been satisfied with my boarding place—so several weeks ago, I tried
another place & room for a couple of days & nights on trial, without giving up my old room—Well, I was
glad enough to go back to my old place & stay there" (see his August 24, 1868 letter to Louisa Van Velsor
Feb 22. 1888 Richmond - Ind Dear Walt; Last night was my first real attempt at the kind of splurge we
I began by a ten minute reading as a sort of "prayer" or prelude, & then turned to my clay & modeled
I had your photos there—& many others, with my busts of Hicks, Sumner, Emerson, & my little head of mother—We
I wish I had photos of my big busts of you & of the statuette, negatives small size fit for stereopticon
Next Sunday's Register will print my opening remarks & give a account of the evening I shall send you
written you long before, as well as after, but have been in a wretched condition with the "misery in my
I don't improve in my back and legs as rapidly as I ought, and am nearly as lame and heavy as you are
I got a copy of Kennedy's pamphlet from him, and but for my bad condition would have written to him,
Often as I have read it, I can't keep the tears out of my eyes."
White, even at my expense! Reason, Shakespearean hostility to the subject. This is a pretty note!
Dear Hank I am here seeing to the setting up & stereotyping of my book in a big printing office, (Rand
I sent—they will give you some acc't account of two or three little happenings in my jaunt—I was down
on Long Island at the spot where I was born & where I had spent my summers in youth from time to time—went
fine very old trees)—I am now writing this in Osgood's place in Boston (they are the publishers of my
—I wish you to give my love to your father & mother—Debbie & Jo Ed, Mont, & Van—Ruth & little George—
chase them round the school till they leave go or else tumble off i have not got a tumble yet thanks to my
are right at home i think you better settle down in canada in this letter isend i send you you one of my
boats with the man of war out at the zulu war and fetched always to england now i hope you will excuse my
bad writing and spelling for my sister give me a tallking talking to for my spelling the last time she
wrote i got a letter from mother to day and she told me that my brother had broke his arm but it is
Press my last little piece —you must chew upon it a little—my inward idea in it being the least literary
or poetical , & most physiological & scientific— My last letter from Dr.
, but I believe I won't—as it is not very clear or encouraging—rather dis couraging — Ab't myself & my
My house-lady Mrs.
could have befallen me—Hot as it is, & with several kind invitations away, I remain for the summer at my
Newark, New Jersey June 21st, 1874 My Dear Friend Your Letters & papers came duly at hand.
I left New York in Oct. 1868, and me and my Brother started A Milk Depot here And we until the Spring
When we separated and I commenced to Paddle my own Canoe: I have A small route And keep A Depot.
Enclosed you will find A Card which my friends say resembles your Humble Servant Very Much you shall
I suppose this is your last production: My Best Wishes from your friend, William H.
March 6 Dear friend The days go along with me pretty much after the old sort, though I dont don't get my
did in the fall & early winter—I busy myself writing some & reading a little—am doing quite well with my
books, & have been all winter—when the weather permits I try to get out, but my strength soon fails
think of coming down next Friday to stay two or three days at any rate—a friend of mine here about my
a long letter from her last week—Susan I am afraid this is not a very lively letter—I have just had my
however, it never reach'd me—it was but really rec'd two days since)—Am feeling sufficiently easy today—my
arriving my 70th year old terminus—a good dinner, tickets ($5), toasts, speeches, &c.
than decent—tho' the jamboree does not present itself as appropriate, or particularly encouragable to my
again to-day—the weather continues fine, very mild—I sweat quite freely—had some good asparagus for my
breakfast (sent f'm my brother's garden, Burlington)—Harry Stafford was here yesterday, he is pretty
Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to
Nov 14th 1890 My dear friend Thanks for your kind remembrance of me in your note & enclosure.
I have my youth renewed to me in the extreme delight I take in our country home.
I have caught some of the pantheistic feeling of oneness in my spirit with nature & I have not been so
I am anchored here, but it is at best a foreign port—Pennsylvania has been the home of my family for
over 200 years and it is the place of my affections.
good spirits—which would be, quite first-rate & good —but every day & every night comes the thought of my
nor disposed to be any more ennuyeed ennuied than ever—but that thought remains to temper the rest of my
Can't use my left leg yet with any freedom—bad spells in the head too frequent yet—then, with all those
I write some—(must occupy my mind.)
I am writing some pieces in the Weekly Graphic—my reminiscences of war times—first number appears in
My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!
And in my own day and maturity, my eyes have seen and ears heard, Lincoln, Grant and Emerson, and my
I have put my name with pen and ink with my own hand in the present volume.
I felt it all as positively then in my young days as I do now in my old ones: to formulate a poem whose
, and has been the comfort of my life since it was originally commenced.
Then the simile of my friend, John Burroughs, is entirely true.
My folks were always worried about me—my mother especially: some of them regarded it as a crazy whim:
Jeff you need not be afraid about my overdoing the matter.
torments my best love.
Jeff give my respects to Mrs. Lane and Dr.
He laughed and took my hand. "Horace, what wouldn't my enemies say with or without provocation?
rais'd by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my
, Or rude in my home in Dakota'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!
rais'd by a perfect mother, After roaming many lands, lover of populous pavements, Dweller in Mannahatta my
, Or rude in my home in Dakota'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!
Again: "I never commit poems to memory—they would be in my way."
It excites my curiosity.
I look round the circle of my acquaintance for her equal.
He said: "Charles Aldrich is my good friend: he has ideas, faiths, which lead him affectionately my way
A great change has taken place in my life since I saw you.