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I can describe it no better than by my old figure—that it seemed as if all the vital insides had fallen

A preliminary cable but does not know when he must sail.W. gives me [notes] for my "memoranda," to be

W. asked, "Did you notice this letter—that it was from my sister's husband at Burlington?"

I ignore him, never recognize him in any way—pity my poor sister—old, sick.

weakness—knowing the spot where I am sore—my love for my sister—ramming his knife in there!

New England Magazine piece), "I think I will get you to set out at greater length—more definitively—my

It is a thing which ought to be plainly said—which my books do not make naked, plain—which perhaps I

He told this once to Bucke (substantially) in my presence.

This time voice, all, strong, pictorial, eloquent.I told W. it was my mother's birthday. "Oh!

"It is a trifle," he said, "but trifles are indicative: tell her that my heart goes with it."

want more than two or three days)—I want to see George, (I have his photograph on the wall, right over my

probably George will come out & see her, & that if he does you will send her word beforehand— Jeff, my

best way to enjoy a visit home, after all—When I come home again, I shall not go off gallivanting with my

& more shaky—how they can make any headway against our new, large & fresh armies next season passes my

it was made to me only as there was no one else in hearing at the moment—(he is quite an admirer of my

Nov. 28 [1881] 29 Lange Strasse Dresden My dear Whitman Yesterday I received all your dispatches—viz,

Still I am very glad that I have it complete in my old .

This volume, with its new poems, etc. offered a field of "pleasant exploration" and renewed my sense

I have ordered my book to be sent to the American papers you mentioned.

You should have recd. received a copy of my Encheiridion by this. Thomas W. H.

Once during my stay got up to urinate but could not.

I said something about the birth of the boy at Harned's: my sister's courage and physical sanity and

I told him that my sister had sat up reading Robert Elsmere last night.

It reminded him of a kindred experience: "When I had my great attack—my great paralysis—I was reading

My dear poet: I wrote you from N.

s at 9.30 on my way to Germantown.

He knew me, dark as it was—called my name.

Harned in during a part of my stay this evening. I met Michael J.

all: I feel I have lost what I call my grip."

way back to my central thought again—my spinal conviction: I resent my resentment—am ashamed of my questions

—adding with the same fire: "My 'verbal' suggestion would be for him to stop the whole thing at once.

Insisted on my taking Burroughs' Pepacton to read.

My few friends are a great host—my many enemies are a few."

Dear Walt:I have sent you the MS. of my letter to Bucke.

Do you see my dilemma?

It's meaty and original anyway—like yr article.Thank Walt for the slips & give him my love.W. S.

that is so familiar a guest in my mind, and so loved and respected a guest too.

sound and that my prospects of life and vigor seem excellent for a man of my age.

Of course I would like to have my piece in and would overhaul it carefully 5.

I thank you sincerely for the honor & compliment in submitting it to my eye.

—have been out in my wheel chair for a 40 minute open air jaunt (propell'd by WF. my sailor boy nurse

) —& now 4pm Nov. 14 '89 waiting for my supper to be bro't— Transcribed from digital images of the original

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?

Buffalo— 12 Jan y 1863 Dear Sir, I am very sorry to be so late with my reply to your note, which was

You will see that I have dated my note from my known residence. With best hope, R. W.

My dear Marvin, Your letter of 13th has reached me.

I should have made my visit the current week, but one of my bad spells has intervened —will write to

Dear Sir:— Accompanying this note, I send you a copy of the first volume of my collection "Poetic Works

Please accept it with my compliments and my best wishes for your welfare I am yours very truly, Frank

afternoon and Stay all night With you and home on the Sunday morning train. i love you Walt and Know that my

Cattell My Love to you Walt, i think of you in my prayers old man Every night and Morning Edward P.

Saturday morning, 1st December 1888 My dear Walt, I want to introduce to you my friend Edward Pease of

When my dear mother was initiating "The Free Will Offering" in London Edward Pease was the first to render

will be very short—but show you that I am still in the land of the living, & have not forgotten you—My

have traveled several thousand miles—mostly on the Lakes & St Lawrence, very comfortably & I am now on my

I am feeling heartier physically than for years—Camden will be my permanent P O address—Love to you—

up from a three weeks' visit down in the Jersey woods, & find your card of 26th—The only copies of my

complete poems "Leaves of Grass," in my control, are of a special autograph & portrait edition, 1882

Walt Whitman I also supply, when desired, my prose volume "Specimen Days & Collect"—price $2.—374 pages

Camden Aug 29 Have finished my Germantown visit & am back here.

Ritter —have indeed not sent copies to any except my sisters and neices nieces . Mrs.

New York City, has translated many of my poems in German, & published them.

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

weave in, my hardy life!

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?

my body against his.

My God! has my love of life survived? have my dreams survived?" A sob burst from his throat.

"Horace: you must return as my delegate to Walt: take my body and take my soul, with you: set them down

God was on my side after all.

I run my pennants up up into the air and fill the skies with my cry: Victory is mine forever!"

What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)

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

self myself from my companions?

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

voice—approach, Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass; Be not afraid of my Body.

My appetite keeps at a high grade, probably three-quarters of the time, for about one-quarter it flunks

Told him I had read "An Old Man's Rejoinder" in Critic on my way over.

Perhaps your feeling is a little mixed with what you know of my criticism from the talks here."

It would be my argument still.

And this may account for my article; having these things in me, they were bound to come out."

Now List to My Morning's Romanza.

NOW LIST TO MY MORNING'S ROMANZA. 1 Now list to my morning's romanza—I tell the signs of the Answerer

And I stand before the young man face to face, and take his right hand in my left hand, and his left

hand in my right hand, And I answer for his brother, and for men, and I an- swer answer for him that

to the President at his levee, And he says, Good-day, my brother!

Next best, is your admiration of my lightnings.

Of course, I was delighted, for my article puts the matter just in the shape I wanted it to appear—gives

I think John will be delighted with my sword-play.

pleased with me, and the poignant and perfumed little note of thanks I sent him after the appearance of my

My task is to do this, and thoroughly, the first time. No after claps.

I hope, therefore, my paragraphing may be permitted by the benignant printer.

I was horrified to learn that my footnote about Lowell was set as per copy.

The note, I guess, will have to stand as it is, for I am at the disadvantage of having left my annotated

My name is Promptness. Good printer-man, thou, too, be not obdurate, but grant me a revise!

I am rummaging my memory for an epigraph for the appendix, as you requested.

Wonderfully cheerful in the evening on my arrival, talking most freely for more than an hour.

My last thought confirmed my first: it seemed like supererogation to impose such a statement upon the

"But Washington, New Orleans, Brooklyn—they are my cities of romance.

He asked me some questions about my health.

I could not stand before a Millet picture with my hat on." Monday July 23, 1888.

My ground is a peculiar one: I know nothing on the other side of the question—the side of statistics,

I build up my conviction mainly on the idea of solidarity, democracy—on the dream of an America standing

I have kept quiet through practically my whole career—almost utter silence—and have never had occasion

and then upon my saying "yes": "Well—give him my love: tell him I know as little about that Herald author

I set up some of it myself: some call it my hand-work: it was not strictly that—there were about one

W. was greatly interested in my repetition of this.

I was on my way to Philadelphia to hear Tom Davidson's lecture on Aquinas.

W. inquisitive—greatly "tempted" by my description of D.'

My details few, but he evidently a good listener.

He was amused with my account of nervousness preceding.

W. reading Lippincott's, which he put down on my entrance.

My sister was here: George's wife, I mean—my sister-in-law: she did not stay long: she is a comforting

"I have been more on my bed than on my chair today." Little reading. "I only skimmed the papers."

Meanwhile I am up to my eyes—and over my eyes even to blindness—in the slough of a fearful road to that

to have of my object in calling on you.

"You are welcome, my brother," said the Unrelenting.

Behold all that is left to brighten my heart!"

"Many years since," said the chief, "when my cheek was soft, and my arms felt the numbness of but few

I felt the edge of my tomahawk—it was keen as my hate.

I raised my arm—I gathered my strength—I struck, and cleft the warrior's brain in quivering halves!"

Complained, however: "While that is true, my vim and strength do not return: I despair of recovering

"It don't go very well: my brain is not equal to it: could not cope with it—gets tired, takes my pen

out of my hand."

Finally: "Hicks is entitled to my best—not my worst.

My best would be too little—my worst would be an insult."

way—he was gentle but firm—he opposed my observation.

The Colonel is always my friend—always on the spot with his good-will if not in person."

Well—I have been lucky in my friends whatever may be said about my enemies.

My fixed residence is 50 Wellington Road, Dublin, Ireland.

My work there is that of Professor of English Literature in the University of Dublin.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your

O I have been dilatory and dumb, I should have made my way straight to you long ago, I should have blabbed

paint myriads of heads, but paint no head with- out without its nimbus of gold-colored light, From my

my brother or my sister! Keep on!

Softly I lay my right hand upon you—you just feel it, I do not argue—I bend my head close, and half-

It had made W. read 'Old Poets' again, as I found him doing on my entrance.

My laughing question, "Do you never get tired reading your own articles," seemed vastly to excite him

Said to me, "I have a new idea about the portraits—have changed my mind: will get several envelopes made

I shall bind it in my volume with the lecture.

Looked over [Harper's] Young People.W. had written me my "dedication" as follows. Would it do?

SCENTED herbage of my breast, Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards, Tomb-leaves

O blossoms of my blood!

O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers—I think it must be for Death, For

Grow up out of my breast! Spring away from the concealed heart there!

Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!

Dec. 30, 1874 I see, my dearest Friend, I must not look for those dashes under the words I thought were

going to convey a joyful confirmation of my hopes.

I believe my dear love that what you need to help on your recovery is a woman's tender cherishing love

are very bright & cheerful—she & indeed all my children enjoy the cold much provided they have plenty

you are well, and that you have felt the warm grasp of many loving friends this wintry cloudy time my

1869 Feb or March Not March tuesday Tuesday 30 My dear walt Walt i have just received your letter i was

would when he wen t away if he could leave) i am pretty well only last sunday Sunday morning i hurt my

knee i catched caught my foot and struck my knee and it got so lame in the coarse course of the day

soon i have been trying to get things straighened straightened up a little prepa tory to moving when my

knee was so lame i thought what would i if i was so i walk but i can walk quite smart to day if i keep my

By this time you will, I trust, be in possession of my printed notes and of the numbers of Great Thoughts

I feel to him just now as though he were my grandfather or an aged uncle; as though I once knew him but

my remembrances were like an infant's."

A similar occasion last year on my birthday Dec. 8 suggested the enclosed "Snow Thought" It is now a

glistening road & through the keen, frosty air has exhilirated me & sent the warm blood tingling to my

out—(George turned 'em out for impudence to mother)—I write every other day, & send papers & stuff—My

like to come on, according to your invitation, & pay you a good visit, but it is doubtful this time—My

But I should like to have a good long visit home, & be with mother—my getting leave does not work yet

as I hoped—but I expect to fix it somehow, & go home before very long—I am very well this winter—My

Dear sister Mat, & Hatty & California, love to you all—I am writing this at my desk, toward noon, very

I wrote to Han yesterday, (before I received this letter of Heyde's), I wrote a short letter of my own

new ones, I could not find any one to do them as I wear them, & it would have cost such a price—& so my

they were too thick & more still because they were worse gone in than any I ever yet wore I think in my

life, especially the trowsers—wearing my big boots had caused the inside of the legs just above the

same as what I always wear, (pants pretty full,) so upon the whole all looks unusually good for me, my

My dear Walt: The article you sent Nelly from the London Leader is in my possession. Good!

If, ever since I have been here, I had not had the worst cold I ever had in my life—a cold which has

made me really sick and spoiled the pleasure of my visit—I should doubtless have ere this sent off the

On my way through New York I enquired at Harpers for Curtis and found he was out of town.

My wife returns your friendly remembrance and yours, I hope, has not forgotten me.

one day in Boston that Joaquin Miller, whose acquaintance I had gained through a poetical trifle of my

Whitman— I have tried all my life to write for the masses.

A few days later I called upon Whitman, my pockets stuffed with verses.

At its conclusion he smiled forgivingly and asked me to tell him about my grandfather on my mother's

Such a boy, to my mind, is positively nauseating.

"I have been out of my chair today—had a delicious trip—the day fine beyond words.

I went up to Tom's—knocked at the office door with my cane—but evidently nobody was in." Alex.

Directed my attention to a French paper in the chair. "It comes from Bartlett's son, now in France.

"The paper contains a translation of my 'Bravo Exposition' piece, whether good or bad I do not know.

my special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!

wood edge, thy touching-distant beams enough, Or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my

launch thy subtle dazzle and thy strength for these, Prepare the later afternoon of me myself—prepare my

lengthen- ing lengthening shadows, Prepare my starry nights.

my special word to thee. Hear me illustrious!

wood edge, thy touching-distant beams enough, Or man matured, or young or old, as now to thee I launch my

launch thy subtle dazzle and thy strength for these, Prepare the later afternoon of me myself—prepare my

lengthen- ing lengthening shadows, Prepare my starry nights.

I have now told my publisher to send another copy to your correct address.

I formerly sent you some of my poetry, but it was early work.

My debt to you is great. Would that I could express it in person!

I'll send a copy too of my last book, "Songs of the Heights & Deeps" see notes June 28 1888 Roden Noel

Oct 2 Dear boy and Comrade You say it is a pleasure to you to get my letters—well, boy, it is a real

write to you—I just write off-hand, whatever comes up, and, as I said before, mostly about myself & my

Dear Pete, with all my kind friends here & invitations, &c., though I love them all, & gratefully reciprocate

Take care of yourself, & God bless you, my loving comrade. I will write again soon.

feel well enough to come on to Washington & make out several weeks—& we'll have a good time together, my

chicken for his dinner—then went to a nice reading room & library we have here, very handy—then home to my

own dinner chicken & nice roast potatoes—& now (2½) up stairs in my room writing this, & feeling very

what you wrote about your mother—Every thing about fellows' old mothers is interesting to me— —Give my

England Mar 16. 92 My Dear Walt, How fares it with you, tonight? Better I hope.

My heart is with you and I send you its best and warmest love.

My heart ached for it.

God bless you dearest & best of Earthly friends My love to you now & always Yours affectionately J.