Search Results

Just a line of birthday greeting, my dearest Friend.

May all that will do you good come my dearest Friend–and not least the sense of relief & joy in having

That is what I believe as surely as I believe in my own existence.

best for us to go to New York (only I want to go at once where we are likeliest to stop, because of my

Solemn thoughts outleaping life, immortal aspirations of my Soul toward your soul.

Belmont Sept 15 '89 (Sunday afternoon) Dear Walt:— I never meant my last poor postal to be the answer

to write the bk I told you of, I must bore you with a letter—just to say how'd'e, & to tell you that my

staunch little dame, my brave frau kin is going to make a little visiting tour, & will some day make

for my freedom! [Here I cut a caper] Now for six weeks of thought . I wrote to F.

My gloire di Dijon rose has grown 12 feet high in many rigorous shoots.

letter of May 14 has come to hand to-day, reminding me of your being in Armory Square Hospital & of my

I send you my love, & to your dear children & wife the same.

it is just comfort enough to be together, almost without any thing else)— I remain about the same in my

red, (though looking now very old & gray, but that is nothing new)—weigh 185 now—am badly lamed in my

am well situated here—but very lonesome —have no near friends, (in the deepest sense) here at hand—my

If I hadn't got your letter of 23d, I should likely have written to you very soon, of my own accord,

I have been home in Brooklyn the last two months, to see my mother, & pay a visit to New York, &c. and

It is now a year ago since you sent it—you spoke in that letter of your parents—You must give my love

But I wonder whether we shall ever come together again, you & I, my loving soldier boy.

I send you my love, & must now bid you farewell for present, dear soldier boy.

My condition is still what may be called favorable—that is I still keep up without having any of those

Yesterday, & yesterday evening I felt better than usual—but am not so well to-day—the worst of my case

My walking does not improve any at all.

My boy that had his eye hurt is doing rather badly too.

Good bye for this time, my loving boy. Walt Walt Whitman to Peter Doyle, 16[–17] October [1873]

London To 2 d March '89 My dear Walt Whitman, During the past day or two I have been arranging your portraits

between the lines, feeling all the time as if I can still see you in your great arm-chair—as during my

It is this impression that I must try to convey as far as may be in my article in the S. A.

So my instinct for life & the open road grows stronger every day. "Right Jack Health!"

I believe I told you that my sister Edith was with me here.

About what is called the Conscript Bill (an improper name) I hope and pray from the bottom of my heart

every man in the land—I would like to see the people embodied en-masse —I am very sure I shall see that my

name is in its place on the lists, and my body in the ranks, if they do it that way—for that will be

With my office-hunting, no special result yet. I cannot give up my Hospitals yet.

I never before had my feelings so thoroughly and (so far) permanently absorbed, to the very roots, as

Greeted me by name and took my hand rather heartily.

Then they say I defer too much to English opinion in my favor.

That's all bosh—I defer to nobody—I do my work.

(And I would like my friends, indeed, when writing for publication about my poetry, to present its gay-heartedness

It seems to be a fine average specimen of his current lectures.And now my friend, I must close my letter

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.

England October 16 th '90 My dear Sir The only excuse that I can offer for trespassing upon your privacy

your works I am having printed a volume of verses, and as I wish to show—though inadequately I know—my

I am quite aware that my work at its best, can be but an unfitting sequence to your name, but my tribute

Camden Aug: 14 '88 Sunny & cool to-day—nothing new in my case—bowel action—my lines on Sheridan's burial

were printed in Herald Aug: 12—(I am beginning to keep my bits & contributions, poetic spurts &c. again

out still undecided—not before than October anyhow—I still have the design of making a 900 page Vol. my

Sunday noon April 8 '88 It is very pleasant & sunny to-day & I am going out in the rig abt 1 o'clock to my

champagne—I enjoy everything—Nothing new with me—there seems to be some hitch in the Herald's publ'ng my

My health though poor is "the same subject continued"—I enc: K[enne]dy's letter from Wilson —(not important

cold cutting true sea brine)—I have not heard a word of the Worthington suit in N Y —not a word from my

Kennedy had written to Whitman: "Rhys continues his schemes on society's pocket-book, & demoralizes my

Dear Friend I take this opportunity to write to you to let you know how I am I am well and my wound is

home but I could not So I had to come back here the Doctor ask me when I came back if I did not want my

told him that I would rather be transfered to newyork and if I could not that I would like to have my

discharge, he said that he would get me transfered or give me my discharge I walk with crutches yet

badly, but hope hourly for change of temperature—Y'r & J W W[allace]'s good letters rec'd —Have had my

weather yet, but expecting the change hourly—tolerably fair night last—(have a stout massage ab't 9½ P M)—my

breakfast two hours ago—(rare fried egg, toast & raw tomato)—Probably my missives are monotonous enough

again but that may give the fact the main thing best—this is the first I have sent for nearly a week—my

My dear Walt Whitman (Somehow the Mr does not come well before Walt Whitman).

broken ground, glad also that you find something to approve of in a work so utterly unlike your own as my

I am this morning starting with my wife & Sons on a tour to the Continent.

in an extreme hurry, packing up & after these few words must bid you goodbye, not without expressing my

Jersey Dec: 10 '81 Dear Sirs Please send me here by express fifteen free copies Leaves of Grass for my

sheets are sent)— Then another thing: I have a few copies remaining (between one & two hundred sets) of my

mostly in England —which I should like to sell whenever applied to—price $10— You have no objections to my

good than harm to it—but is not of much importance any how—only (to me) as putting a few dollars in my

W. frequently broke in on my descriptions to say: "Well, that is beautiful to hear!"

The Century under Gilder has always accepted my pieces and paid for them.

Some of my friends have quarrelled with the editors but they have never done it with my consent.

I am well satisfied with my success with titles—with Leaves of Grass, for instance, though some of my

You have saved my books: I could not do these books without assistance.

He did not indicate his knowledge of my presence.

Whitman and my next door neighbor—and my neighbor is now dead."

'My idea is...'""That's right—you've got it.

I had taken Bucke's note of the 14th out of my pocket.

Yes, got my rest on the bed—wrote my sister at Burlington. I am very lame.

Adding after my nod of assent, "Well, if there's anyone in the world he ought to know by this time—would

Did you go to hear my good friend Herne read while he was in Philadelphia.

He is my convert to the Single Tax. By the way does W. W. indicate interest in it still?

Give him my love.

The last one—the closing one—just the last year—in this room—since my sickness.

I used it at my talk last week. Think I shall put up another for my own use.

I find I can co-operate with them & do my work on common ground.

My exhibition will include a variety of things.

I am going to send for my Cleveland statue & your bust.

I felt like doffing my hat to old Dame nature.

But I shall try my best to let you have it for tomorrow." Title-page he now wholly approved.

I have had a dreadful bad day all through—my constipation and my cold have been the two beans in the

"I have nothing final on it: my head got so bad I put aside, resigned, everything."

And he answered as he fervently kept my hand—"I shall not, my boy—no—no—not for a minute"—and then "Goodbye

Davis on my way out. Ed had gone for his music lesson.

Her mother was my mother's cousin. Never met her before."

I have never forsworn my allegiance to the printers—never.

At any rate," looking directly at me, "take my authorization with you: I authorize you to promise just

Called my attention to the fact that the Long Islander reprinted my Lippincott's piece in full, giving

before I get the piece in my book."

s on my way home from West Philadelphia. Found him industriously reading proofs of book.

And, "I feel as if this was my last pull of shad!"

He is opposed to my making any plans for the birthday. "Who knows? I may not be above ground then!"

Had read the papers—written "some notes"—that was the "beginning and end of my day."

My dear Mr. Traubel:I have yours of the 15th.

London Dec. 9. 1874 My dearest Friend It did me much good to get your Poem—beautiful earnest eloquent

My artist boy is working away cheerily at the R. Academy, his heart in his work.

I feel more completely myself than I have done since my illness.

I think my thoughts fly to you on strongest and most joyous wings when I am out walking in the clear

Good bye my dearest Friend. Annie Gilchrist.

["My wings may be free but the same can't be said of my backside!"]

My friends call me Bram. I live at 43 Harcourt St., Dublin.

But go on: may the good Lord have mercy on my soul!"]

I say it to my own shame but not to my regret for it has taught me a lesson to last my life out—without

for a copy of my new edition has just been received.

My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!

My Likeness! EARTH! MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!

I realize that I am at last on the verge of dissolution: my vim has departed, my strength is gone, life

He used to handle my skepticism about Poe without gloves: Edgar Poe: he would not have my qualifications

life and may be used as in some byways an explanation of my addiction to the trades and my apprenticeship

What he says of Scott has my entire approval: Scott is my man, too: I go to him sometimes with a real

They have made my summer glorious. My love of that man is something strong as fate.

—that my mind is bound to last me out whatever becomes of my body." Spoke of the Harneds.

My father spoke of the Twenty Years' drawings in the Magazine of Art as being "so Scotch."

Gilder has always been my friend—very good friend—indeed, I may say my 'dear' friend, speaking for myself

Gilder as well as Watson himself, I'd had one of the times of my life.

appreciation, my love for them, has no ifs and buts either." [1905.

Give him my love, tell him you found me here, tell him the beautiful note nestled to its place in my

If I will send you copy of my lecture on Shakespeare will you read it to Whitman?

I have put some in my cellar."

W. asked, "My proofs? Not come yet?" I was to have them Monday.

And now, Horace, if you write to the Colonel, don't forget my love.

My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches

Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in

I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can

; No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair;— I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no

man to a dinner-table, library, exchange; But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My

—I think profoundly of my friends—though I cannot write to them by the post office.

—I write to them more to my satisfaction, through my poems.— Tell Hector I thank him heartily for his

—I am so non–polite—so habitually wanting in my responses and ceremonies.

—I not only assured him of my retaining faith in that sect, but that I had perfect faith in all sects

—They retard my book very much.—It is worse than ever.

Earth, My Likeness. EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

EARTH, my likeness, Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there, I now suspect that is not

Earth, My Likeness. EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

EARTH, my likeness, Though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there, I now suspect that is not

He stirred on my entrance—opened his eyes, "Oh, Horace—it is Horace!"

"This has been one of my damnedest days," he said. "One of the very damnedest.

It has taken all my courage, energy, simply to keep afloat—simply to hold my head above water."

But I don't know—I have my doubts." Yesterday had been downstairs in the front room for an hour.

and which are my miracles?

Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your feet can

As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight

any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my

perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my

REALISM is mine, my miracles, Take all of the rest—take freely—I keep but my own—I give only of them,

As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight

any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my

perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my

1871 febuary February 9 My dear walt Walt i write a few lines to say i received your letter yesterday

Hudson River horror is awful in the extreme it is enoughf enough to make one shudder) i am better of my

cold but are quite lame it seems as if the pain and lameness is all settled in my left knee i can walk

but yesterday i was quite bad but i think it will be better in a day or two i have had a weakness in my

right hand and wrist you can see by my writing it looks some like yours when your thumb was so bad how

Jersey , Dec. 3—noon Dear Pete, Dear son, I am getting over my late bad spell—I have been very sick indeed

, the feeling of death & dizziness, my head swimming a great deal of the time—turning like a wheel—with

expected—& shall go out, or try to, to-day, as it is very pleasant—You must not be needlessly alarmed, my

partially well & strong enough—The doctor is quite encouraging—comes every day—& I feel a good heart yet—My

paper—I have some spurts of visits, & company—but very little that goes to the right spot, with me—my

Oct 10/91 My Dear Old Friend: My best thanks to you for your kind letter written on the back page of

week of it & this has been an exceptionally busy day—two midwifery cases & an inquest in addition to my

What a tale does my Ledger tell! The doctor's an angel of light when we're ill.

My love to you! Best respects to all your household. Yours affectionately J. Johnston Dr.

of this city contained a notice of the celebration of your seventy-second birth day; and called to my

none other than your self, and I have never ceased to feel deeply grateful to you for your kindness to my

visits to him were repeated again and again, until his death, and I know gave him great pleasure .— My

wholly passed from your memory, and to tell you that the lapse of quarter of a Century has not lessened my

appreciation of the attention shown my brother.— May Gods best belongings rest upon you.

was glad to hear from you—I am still in a pretty bad way —I am writing this over at the office, at my

desk, but feel to-day more like laying down than sitting up—I do not walk any better, & my head has

strength—very slowly—& shall yet get well as ever—Every thing goes on about the same, in the sphere of my

impossible in reality— —I got a long letter from Dowden —he mentions you —As I sit I look over from my

were men out there in their shirt-sleeves raking it up—I have a big bunch of lilacs in a pitcher in my

Jan. 3 but expect some—(or perhaps one will be sent you f'm Boston—If no other way, I shall send you my

weather-scene has changed completely—not cold, but dark & rainy & glum—Ed has been down to the bank to deposit my

almost every respect, chair, bed, &c &c—they say I have not fallen away in flesh (ab't face &c) since my

sick spell—my best strength is in my right arm, hand & side—I can get out of bed quite well now wh'

Dear William O'Connor, When I arrived home yesterday I found my brother worse than I had anticipated.

spoon, to some one wrapt in a great blanket, & seated in an arm chair, by the stove—I did not recognize my

Mother put down the cup, &c. & began to cry—this affected poor George—yet I preserved my composure, though

House —also other of my young men friends—they are all very, very cordial & hospitable—I shall go over

Dear Nelly, I send you my love—also to Charles Eldridge—shall probably remain here the ensuing week.

"Henry Clapp," Walt Whitman said to Horace Traubel, "stepped out from the crowd of hooters—was my friend

NarayanaChandran"Who Learns My Lesson Complete?" (1855)"Who Learns My Lesson Complete?"

(1855)First published without a title in Leaves of Grass (1855), "Who Learns My Lesson Complete?"

"'I' and 'You' in 'Who Learns My Lesson Complete?': Some Aspects of Whitman's Poetic Evolution."

"Who Learns My Lesson Complete?" (1855)

memories to you—for I have them always for you—Was prostrated down with ab't the sixth recurrent attack of my

paralysis again and iron-bound constipation early last June & have been kept ever since in my sick room

Boughs" wh' I send a copy to you same mail with this—Also am finishing a big Vol. comprehending all my

ready for binder—I am still at 328 Mickle Street—have not been out doors for over six months—hardly out my

here & see me Friday noon, Dec: 7 I am up, had a partial bath, a bit of breakfast & am now sitting my

My dear friend I am having quite a good spell to-day, (if it only lasts)—I wish you, in conjunction with

Peter Doyle, would go over to my room at Dr.

White's, & unlock the big trunk, (the one that is strapped) and take out My gray suit , coat, vest, &

My black overcoat , quite heavy—it is the one in the trunk— Black felt hat, (there are two black hats

I will write promptly if there is any marked change in my condition.

and which are my miracles?

Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely, Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your feet can

As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight

any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my

perfect old man, or the perfect old woman, Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial, Or my

would make my blood as thin as possible, and so lessen the arterial strain.

Well, my time has come—that is all. You see, I am somewhat of a fatalist!"

I take it my spirit sense of your condition is not likely to fail after all.

For all, accept my friendliest good wishes."Direct, W. W. Solicitor's office.

I get published, in spite of my enemies." "Your enemies never really hurt you?"

Fascinated, my eyes, reverting from the south, dropped, to follow those slender winrows, Chaff, straw

Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Oppressed with myself that I have dared to open my

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!)