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daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious, here behold my

wide sweep, having brought me again, Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all won- drous wondrous , My

wondrous; Existing, I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present—content with the past, By my

daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious here behold my

cycles in their wide sweep having brought me again, Amorous, mature, all beautiful to me, all wondrous, My

wondrous, Existing I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present, content with the past, By my

has been giving me the very devil in Liberty for calling the Emperor William a 'faithful shepherd' in my

As he said: "It is all from my friends.

There was nothing in this little poem to contradict my earlier philosophy.

leave W. reverted to the Emperor William affair: "Do you think I had better write a little note to my

"That is true—true—if I wrote I would do no more than make it clear that my reference was to the Emperor

I went down to the Cemetery—Harleigh: I want you to go there, too—see my lot.

And curiously, he is the first man of the kind, in such a position, whose views coincide with my own.

No—no—I do not think he is anything but what he appears—my impression was a good one, favorable: the

Not only asked to buy my whole stock of books—but the copyright as well.

I am willing to sell books and books—but my freedom?"

I have just written to the Postmaster at Washington, asking him to forward my letters here, as I suppose

In my case there is no notable amendment—& not much change—I have irregular spells of serious distress

the day or night only, with intervals in which, (while I remain still,) I feel comparatively easy—but my

C[lerk] at which I am truly pleased —Nelly, as I suppose you will see this letter, I will send you my

& did he say any thing new about my sickness or symptoms?

Walt Whitman: I came across your, and now my, Leaves of Grass when I was eighteen, that is a year ago

I took it to my mother and "wheedled" her as she says, and got her to give the "leaves" to me.

At the page where you breathed on and pressed your hand, I also pressed my hand and so we have had a

condition of London and I am working hard to get out of it and back to America, where I shall bury my

And you have done my brothers & sisters, the race, good.

Meltonsville (my home office) Mr.

About that time I also, obeying an "impulse" or "law of my being" which was effectual if not "irresistible

" went for a Poet for my county.

Again this summer learned in my backwoods hermit home that Walt's Poems were in books, and that "English

In my disappointment and vexation I then said to my family "the Publisher who would publish and the Bookseller

Grier here is confident my principal trouble is cerebral anæmia (blood not properly going to the brain

it arises from a long continued excessive emotional action generally —& thinks it so has arisen in my

moonlight evening—It is bright & clear to-day, & rather hot—It is socially here an utter blank to me—my

dread of being bored by any one is now completely gratified with a vengeance—I look long & long at my

mother's miniature, & at my sister Mat's—I have very good one's of each—& O the wish if I could only

O'Connor has just paid me a pleasant visit—& I have been eating my lunch of a roast apple & biscuit—I

pain & comparatively comforting, & that it cannot be very long before I shall have the good use of my

downward, partially helpless— but the principal trouble is yet in the head, & so easily getting fatigued— my

whole body feels heavy, & sometimes my hand—Still, I go out a little every day almost—accompanied by

I am sitting here in my room—it is very pleasant out apparently— I generally go out a little between

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

body to meet my lover the sea; I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me

I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceiv'd; I will run a furrow with my plough—I

will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up under- neath underneath ; I am sure I shall expose

transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

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

body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.

I do not see any of it upon you to-day, or perhaps I am deceiv'd, 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 of the

transparent green-wash of the sea which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

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

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

I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my plough—I

will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up un- derneath underneath , I am sure I shall expose

transparent green-wash of the sea, which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

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

body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.

I do not see any of it upon you to-day, or perhaps I am deceiv'd, 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 of the

transparent green-wash of the sea which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my

I confessed my concern.

He said: "I've had the same concern myself: my body is nowadays so easily shoved off its balance: but

It cuts to the marrow—at least to my marrow: is a sort of confession of faith on my part.

without lowering my colors.

I am always more or less on tenter hooks about my health these times."

I fully see the advantages of it and have mentioned it in my Preface.

But I think I can rely on my father's helping me to the extent needed.

I was born in this town and know every field and nearly every tree since my childhood.

He and my mother are greatly delighted with the two grandchildren we have brought them home.

Rolleston," said W., "has proved to be one of my staunchest friends.

31 1889Dear Sir:I think I subscribed $5 to the publication of the "Camden Compliment," and I enclose my

W. thought: "From my point of view, aside entirely from what is said on it, the book is a success from

I do not get over my astonishment, however, that this is for us—that I have lived to see it."

Said he had "another red-ink postal from the Epoch person, directing my attention to The Epoch of Nov

My own poem looks well: there is a noble breadth given it there—in the mere printerial aspect of it."

431 Stevens Street Camden New Jersey Nov: November 26 '80, p m My dear Gilder I wonder if you can help

about a year ago bo't bought at auction the electrotype plates (456 pages) of the 1860–'61 edition of my

book Leaves of Grass —plates originally made by a young firm Thayer & Eldridge under my supervision

Second I want my royalty for all he has sold, (though I have no idea of ever getting a cent.)

I am the sole owner of the copyright—& I think my copyright papers are all complete—I publish & sell

I would be willing to make you an immediate payment of $250.00 on account and will do everything in my

my book Leaves of Grass W. Whitman" (Whitman's Commonplace Book).

Burlington Tuesday Morning March 4 1873 My Dear Brother How are you this morning.

little I feel glad when its it's bright pleasant weather I think maybe you will gain faster,—I know my

from him and the dear little girls Do you remember Walt some years ago, what a bad time I had with my

back (I think it was neuralgie neuralgia of the spine) anyway I was well only my back I could not walk

do like that young fellow that is so kind to you, Peter Doyle I shall always remember him Good bye my

At my request he sends the paragraph on the back of his own photo.

My drawings and my clay greatly interest her and a large company of boys & girls who flock to her porch

God sends my due—or approximates it. My busts sell, but my landlord stands at the door.

My lectures succeed, but the money they bring takes me back home, & then comes a dying whisper—"nothing

My husband ("J.C.T.

but I am surprised to see that in Lippincott's (foot-note to p 381) you quote, instead of this, from my

Harrison's letters and have been comforting my soul with the idea that you prized the one I refer to,

fanciful imagination, whistled merrily, or moaned sadly, according to my thoughts.

emboldens me to ask whether my husband and I may not call upon you some day at your convenience.

Trautwine's note" in revising the Lippincott's piece for publication in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891): see

The Hospitals still engross a large part of my time and feelings—only I don't remain so long and make

It comes from a bad cold, gathering I think in my head.

Things here are just the same with me, neither better nor worse—(I feel so engrossed with my soldiers

, I do not devote that attention to my office-hunting, which is needed for success.)

Jeff, you must give my best respects to Mr. and Mrs.

I cannot tell how my ankles bend . . . . nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the

To walk up my stoop is unaccountable . . . . I pause to consider if it really be.

My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes

Speech is the twin of my vision . . . . it is unequal to measure itself.

I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about

Any one of you fellows knows more about my book than I do myself.

most of them—and then go off and picture me as standing out in the middle of the room and spouting my

That word, they said, was out of place, not my word, inconsistent with my philosophy.

My enemies would even dispute my knowledge of the English." W. talked of "Shakespeare worship."

No magnificent cathedral could quite so well have rounded up my simple picture.

see notes Dec 2d 1888 Lapierre House Philad Philadelphia Friday My dear Poet.

the chief figure in a box with Childs Dayton and self on the eve of the 24th inst at the opening of my

My dear friend are you not well enough to come? Longfellow was ith with me at Boston .

LIPPINCOTT'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE Philadelphia, Sept 16th. 188 6 My dear Sir: Your article, "My Book and

I have been purposing to call over to see you, but my days are pretty well engaged and I am afraid of

431 Stevens Street Camden N J Dec 18 a m My dear Sir I want a nice standing ratan work-basket for my

baskets,—such as will probably cost 3½ or $4— Please call soon — Walt Whitman I am well as usual—I send my

11.27—1891 My dear friend Walt Whitman, I want, before you go beyond reach of such messages, to send

you my love and admiration and thanks.

Bless you, dear Walt,—& I wish that I might bear all your bodily pain & weakness upon my own strong young

cool—have signed & sent the contract with Rheinhalter Bros: 18 Broad st: Phila: architects &c: for my

burial house in Harleigh Cemetery —Ralph Moore to have control & charge under my name & be my representative

America Nothing very new or different, Alys comes often & is as welcomed as sunshine—I am sitting here in my

den as ever—dark & rainy to-day & yesterday—My Canadian nurse & friend has left me—(he had a good chance

along better than you might imagine—a bad physical brain probably catarrhal—& hopeless locomotion—are my

Monthly just out (February)—shall have another in the March number —Can't seem to do, without occupying my

day—nights are worst for me—I cant can't rest well—has been so now for a month—But I must not fill my

letter with my complaints—To-day is just a Year, since I was paralyzed, (23 d Jan.

January '73)—What a year it has been to me—Good bye my loving boy—write me all the news & gossip.

My dear L— I perform the thrice-agreeable office of informing you that my purgatory here is just finishing

At present I think it improbable that I shall pay any visit to Jamaica, though I should like to see my

"— —"O. how my spirit springs and grows elastick at the idea of leaving this diabolical, and most p articularly

I rubbed my eyes a little to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is

I wish to see my benefactor, & have felt much like striking my tasks, & visiting New York to pay you

my respects.

Dear Walt The lovely spirit fled on Sunday afternoon at five o'clock.....My darling mother's life has

Some day next year I am going to send you a photograph from my last picture of mother I painted it this

I and brother (Percy Carlyle Gilchrist ) placed her semblance in my father's grave this morning at Kensal-Green

She died in my arms.

.: My Dear Sir:— I shall not flatter myself that you retain any knowledge or the faintest recollection

—While reading this paragraph, an army (and no small army) of reminiscences were called to my mind, prominent

After my most cordial regards allow me to say that I should feel SO proud to receive your autograph at

My Sister attained quite a reputation about that time as a writer for News-papers under the nom-de-plume

(1884) 328 Mickle street Camden Monday 3 pm Nov 10 Thanks my dear friend for the nice chicken—I have

just had a part of it for my dinner—& the honey in the comb just like that is something I like—I had

request of a fine jolly young Englishman who is visiting there for a few days, & told me much about my

considerably better, more able to get around since the cool weather has set in—had rather a bad summer—my

temperature—ab't as usual with me—bowel action this mn'g—stew'd oysters, Graham bread, apple sauce & coffee for my

this season hereabout—you must have a splendid show of them—the yellow (canary) & white in a bunch are my

with a friend in Phila—I am sitting here as usual—no letter mail yesterday & this forenoon, (except my

pretty dull with me these days—yet I think I keep fair spirits (a blessed hereditament probably fr'm my

furnished me by the printer after all, & I will send you 15 copies —The cards in the little envelope are my

Tom H. comes every day—my brother George also—my sister Lou has just visited me this mn'g—Y'r letter

treatment applied to himself—it is autobiographic of course—pathologic— It grows cloudy & cooler—have had my

I am having good times here, rather quiet—My book is being printed—gets along rather slowly.

almost every afternoon—then sometimes a sail on the river or bay—so you see I am enjoying myself in my

way—with three or four hours work every day reading my proofs, &c— Andy, I suppose you are all getting

along as usual—I enclose a line to Mat, which please give him—I send my love to you, Frank, Mat & Lewis

Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayo- nets bayonets ; Spirit of gloomiest fears and

steps keep time: —Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day; Touch my

mouth, ere you depart—press my lips close!

Let them scorch and blister out of my chants, when you are gone; Let them identify you to the future,

Osgood and Co of Boston for the publishing of my poems complete in one volume, under the title of "Walt

Nothing very new otherwise—you must have kept posted about my Boston jaunt, for I sent you papers—it

My forthcoming summer movements are not exactly decided—probably go on to Boston for two or three weeks

, as I like to keep a sharp eye on my proofs and typography—then I must go a month in Canada—I will keep

I rubbed my eyes a little, to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is

I wish to see my benefactor, and have felt much like striking my tasks and visiting New York to pay you

my respects.

knows, aught of them;) May-be seeming to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my

changed points of view; —To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously an- swer'd answer'd by my

lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the

appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave; But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my

431 Stevens St &c My dear friend, Enclosed I send you a piece printed here to give a true statement of

My friend, I must still put off for another letter some things I have had in my mind for months to say

Your letters past—what John Burroughs told me—(and your book)—have grafted you more on my good will &

knows, aught of them,) May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they indeed but seem) as from my

, from entirely changed points of view; To me these and the like of these are curiously answer'd by my

lovers, my dear friends, When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding me by the

appearances or that of identity beyond the grave, But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied, He ahold of my

Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet

steps keep time: —Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day; Touch my

mouth, ere you depart—press my lips close!

Let them scorch and blister out of my chants, when you are gone; Let them identify you to the future

knows, aught of them;) May-be seeming to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my

from entirely changed points of view; —To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously answer'd by my

lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the

appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave; But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my

Ere departing fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet

steps keep time; Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day, Touch my

mouth ere you depart, press my lips close, Leave me your pulses of rage—bequeath them to me—fill me

with currents convulsive, Let them scorch and blister out of my chants when you are gone, Let them identify

aught of them;) May-be they only seem to me what they are, (as doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my

from entirely changed points of view; To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously answered by my

lovers, my dear friends; When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long while holding me by the

appearances, or that of identity beyond the grave, But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied, He ahold of my

AH, whispering, something again, unseen, Where late this heated day thou enterest at my window, door,

utterance to my heart beyond the rest—and this is of them,) So sweet thy primitive taste to breathe within—thy

soothing fingers on my face and hands, Thou, messenger-magical strange bringer to body and spirit of

, now gone—haply from endless store, God-sent, (For thou art spiritual, Godly, most of all known to my

Ere departing fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet

steps keep time; Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day, Touch my

mouth ere you depart, press my lips close, Leave me your pulses of rage—bequeath them to me—fill me

with currents convulsive, Let them scorch and blister out of my chants when you are gone, Let them identify