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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

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 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,

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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 &

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

CITY of my walks and joys!

nor the bright win- dows windows , with goods in them, Nor to converse with learned persons, or bear my

your fre- quent frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love, Offering me the response of my own—these

I have abt 10 minutes a day to my self!

Wilson has my MS now. Am going to take a vacation in a month.

Do drop me a line dear & revered papa, & relieve my anxiety abt you. W. S. Kennedy.

Routledge In my note of January 17 last, sending "Whispers of Heavenly Death," I included a request for

If agreeable therefore, please request the New York house to send by express, at my expense, thirty copies

of the "Broadway" containing the piece, to my address, Attorney Gen's office, here.

day & clear evn'g, after snow-storm &c—I have the grip at last & quite badly—am sitting here alone in my

den—nothing very new—my eyes failing—Expect to give (& wish to) my "Death of Abraham Lincoln" memorandum

My love to Ed and Debby and the whole family.)

As I am going up & may not be down again soon, I wish Debby to take charge of my big pillow, as it was

made by & given me by my mother, & she slept on it & I shall want it again.

Camden Sept: September 8 '91 Dear sister Nothing very different—am ab't about same—eat my meals—was out

Friday afternoon an hour ride to cemetery—my friends Dr Bucke Mrs.

O Connor and Horace Traubel & his wife with me—it is my design to gather the remains of our dear mother

serene as ever & getting on comfortably—had a present of some plump sweet partridges —& half one for my

American sent last night—I believe the books, printing &c. are going to eventuate satisfactorily from my

point of view & plans—no cyclone of success—but no special mishap—wh' is a great victory considering my

Camden noon Sept: 26 '90 Am getting along ab't as usual—Some nice oysters (with a bit of lemon) for my

breakfast—cloudy & wet inclined to chilly to-day here—was out in wheel-chair last even'g—I enclose my

, (the piece in Trans[cript] rec'd—thanks)—sold a big book yesterday—have just lit a little fire in my

for the copy German rendering " Cradle Endlessly Rocking " & for all the other German renderings of my

you have sent me, & which I carefully keep, & prize—Dr R M Bucke has just published a book about me & my

poems—& having two or three advance copies (in paper) at my disposal I should like to send you one.

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.

My letters to Mr. Courtney of the 2d and 21st of November last are hereto annexed, marked A and B .

The prosecutions referred to in my letters were for frauds upon Internal Revenue, as I then understood

Upon my inquiring whether he was expecting to obtain the consent of these accusers to the submission

Attorney Courtney— and these, and these alone, were the reasons for my direction of the suspension or

Eckel, and until my examination of the case, and my final directions thereupon, that the indictment in

Of course, I don't know how I look—yet as I know myself, if I know myself, my head don't set so on my

Tis midnight now; my lonely gateI open to no stranger's knock."Who art thou? Speak!"

My names are Song, Love, Art.My poet, now unbar the door.""

Art's dead, Song cannot touch my heart,My once Love's name I chant no more.""

Too late—my youth you still withhold.""

["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.

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?"

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.

Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life. WEAVE IN, WEAVE IN, MY HARDY LIFE. WEAVE in!

weave in, my hardy life!

Italian tenor, singing at the opera —I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing; …Heart of my

—you too I heard, murmuring low, through one of the wrists around my head; Heard the pulse of you, when

all was still, ringing little bells last night under my ear.

Italian tenor singing at the opera, I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing; Heart of my

you too I heard murmuring low through one of the wrists around my head, Heard the pulse of you when all

was still ringing little bells last night under my ear.

What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand? WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND?

WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?