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My mind is fallow now, but I suppose it is for the best.

I hardly know my old self as seen in my old Index articles. However, Sursum! Resurgam! Forward!

I have thought of it and cannot get it off my mind, so I have come up to ask your forgiveness.

I know that it is my falt fault and not yours.

give you up, and it makes me feel so bad to think how we have spent the last day or two; and all for my

I write to inform you that I have expunged from the forthcoming Edition of my "Talks with Emerson" a

Such was my feeling I remember in regard to the effect of the incident when I mentioned it.

Yours with high respect, Charles J Woodbury I am only here temporarily; my permanent address is,— #123

Dear Sir— I have tried in vain to obtain a good portrait of my father for you and am reduced to this

not read) containing poor copies of the good portraits that are in some secure, forgotten place among my

traps—stored in garret or cellar of my new house where all things are at sixes and sevens.

But I take back my promise. For if you are not sane what will writing avail?

It is a waste of breath for my friend to tell me I am healthy when my pulse records the circumstance

My dear Walt: I received yr your post-card this week, and frwrd forwarded it to Leonard M.

You make no allusion to my Book or my little confidences thereon: do you care for a copy?

My Dear Walt: You have, I believe, in your hands certain charges against Judge Kelly of Idaho.

His friends are my friends, and while I do not know much of him personally, I nevertheless know his accuser

I congratulate you, my dear fellow, on the great appreciation which reaches across the greatwater to

Yesterday & to-day I am perceptibly better—Cooler & signs of September—Still adhere to my 2d story room

moment—I have somewhere a printed slip of "Old Age's Lambent Peaks" & will yet send it—but I cannot lay my

hand on it this moment—a cloudy rather pleasant day, almost cool—quiet—I reiterate the offer of my mare

the opposition & resentment at L of G. is probably as concentrated & vital & determined in New York (my

known— —I am sitting here all alone to-day—I do not eat dinner these short days—only breakfast & supper—my

appetite fair—had some buckwheat cakes & raw oysters for my breakfast.

All my Herald bits will be included in November Boughs & I will send an early proof of all to you—As

I write I am sitting here in my big chair by the window (I have open'd it a few moments—it is near sunset—air

am quite immobile & don't get out except by being toted —a bunch of white lilies is in the window & my

Oh, my God! my God!"

Oh, my divine Redeemer! Oh, my Friend, my Saviour!"

own husband, my first, my only love, my love forever!

"O my God—my boy George!"

boy, my George; my saved and ransomed George; my son, my son!

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.

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-

"I found this in my coat," he said. "I don't often put on this coat.

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

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

It puts me in mind of my visit to a church when I was a boy.

It was a Presbyterian church and the preacher was in a high box above my head.

hasn't my prosperity walked on its uppers almost from the start?"

In any event, I hope to hear your address and to see you at my office.

I am anxious to have one or more contributions from you for my Cyclopedia for which we pay ten dollars

I'm afraid my pen let loose would have seemed out of character in such a place: my pen tied up I haven't

I tell you, Horace, it's no fun for words when they get in my hands, though the howlers may not know

"The minute I attempt to work my brain gets into a snarl."

My own greatest pleasure at Pfaff's was to look on—to see, talk little, absorb.

I had, in my years of loafing, forgotten how sweet toil was.

I had quite lost my interest in literature and was fast losing my interest in life itself, but these

two months of work have sharpened my appetite for all things.

My love to her. It is curious you do not hear from Mrs.

He was not asleep on my entrance—his eyes wide open, facing the light.

"Yes, that is my idea, but I leave the final decision to him.""

Yes, say it is my wish—wish, not order: I acknowledge his privilege.""

Found my letter from Arthur Stedman awaiting me.

My purse and my heart are yours!" W. exclaimed, "How grand! How quick!

On top of all my other troubles and labors my daughter Clare considered it "de rigueur" to give a ball

My work is done. Nothing remains now but to ring the curtain down."

My good-bye and his rather more than usually affectionate.

"My best love for all the boys at the club." Tuesday, November 17, 1891

Give my best regards to Whitman.

He laughed gently and responded, "Yes, caution, caution—it is my old virtue!"

Now he inquired, "Is there any news of the literatures—anything at all my kind?"

I consider Ingersoll and Symonds my proof.

"You are not the least of my comforts, Horace!" he exclaimed.

Mary is away today—Warrie is my cook.

I find I must exercise my utmost wits, to keep myself in a certain negative plane—which seems my only

Present my compliments to your wife & believe meTruly,D. G.

Now the book is completed, I want it made and kept my way." I had written Ingersoll today.

And I want you to let me know about it—for my curiosity has been aroused."

W. not home the moment of my call, so I sat down in the parlor, reading and waiting.

buildings which he could descry from his position on the wharf—"the big buildings—all gone up since my

My description appeared greatly to interest him, and he questioned me keenly in detail, as is his wont

Dave will leave it absolutely in my hands to arrange.

"You'll find it easily," he said, "say I sat in my usual place up there—my chair turned this way"—wheeling

Called my attention to an old letter in the Philadelphia Press describing a visit to Emerson with Louisa

You will see by it how that point staggers my friends as well as my enemies.

Dear Walt Whitman:Pray forgive my long silence. I have been deep in troubles of my own.

I know the purity and righteousness of your meaning, but that does not alter my regret.I think your reputation

When I tried to take those pieces out of the scheme the whole scheme came down about my ears.

W. took it from my hands and held it off from himself, regarding it with immediate approval and fondness

Millet is my painter: he belongs to me: I have written Walt Whitman all over him. How about that?

My word was not law, of course: they could have done anything they chose about it: but they asked my

Take my own method—if you call it that.

This does not mean that I am not careful: it only means that I try not to overdo my cake."

Whether because he saw my protest—inarticulate—whether I looked objection (which I hardly intended to

I have met him several times, and that was my impression.

And that reminds me to say, Horace, that there's one break in my piece—at least, one mistake—or not even

One place there you remember I spoke of my return to Washington and reception by O'Connor and his noble

I should not have permitted it—should have put my foot down on that.

said as I greeted him at the door, "Your hand is most frozen," and I remarked it to W., "Take care—my

The book to include my preface." I had offered to Mrs. O'Connor to read proofs.

"I was on my last man," he remarked, "and would have sent Warrie out to skirmish for them tomorrow.

I shall put them in my own drawer—keep them for mine own humor—and think of you as my messenger."

Would I stop to see him: "Drop a little reminder that I have not my copy of Reisser talk."

refreshing night the walks of Paradise, I scent the grass, the moist air and the roses; Thy song expands my

and for my sensuous eyes, Bring the old pageants, show the feudal world.

the terrible tableaus. 7 O trumpeter, methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest, Thou melt'st my

heart, my brain—thou movest, drawest, chan- gest changest them at will; And now thy sullen notes send

soul, renew its languishing faith and hope, Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future

refreshing night the walks of Paradise, I scent the grass, the moist air and the roses; Thy song expands my

and for my sensuous eyes, Bring the old pageants, show the feudal world.

the terrible tableaus. 7 O trumpeter, methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest, Thou melt'st my

heart, my brain—thou movest, drawest, chan- gest changest them at will; And now thy sullen notes send

soul, renew its languishing faith and hope, Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future

May 14. 1874 My dearest Friend Two papers have come to hand since I last wrote; one containing the memoranda

A great deal of needlework to be done at this time of year; for my girls have not time for any at present

May is in a sense (& a very real one) my birth month too, for in it were your Poems first put into my

My children are all well and hearty I am thankful to say, & working industriously.

Good bye my dearest Friend. Anne Gilchrist. Anne Gilchrist to Walt Whitman, 14 May 1874

July 14/72 The 3d July was my rejoicing day, dearest Friend,—the day the packet from America reached

I speak out of my own experience when I say that no Myth, no "miracle" embodying the notion of a direct

of the heart suddenly grow adequate to such new work—O the passionate tender gratitude that flooded my

breast, the yearning that seemed to strain the heart beyond endurance that I might repay with all my

to be so, now: that for me too love & death are folded inseparably together: Death that will renew my

"Democratic Souvenirs" (later "My Legacy") was included in Whitman's "Songs of Parting," which contained

That he obtained your goods & service under false pretenses is perfectly certain to my mind .

would let me have some property which he had no earthly use for viz some books which had once been in my

private library a $150 bookcase which had been in my library 5 or 6 years before I thought of going

pay you $200.00 (just what was due Dec 1st '74) In another place he binds himself to carry out all my

I have done for 3 or 4 years, day & night & sunday, to get justice out of this fellow for myself & my

Camden April 14 '89 Fine sunny weather—nothing special in my health—(if any difference am suffering less

My dear friend, I was glad to hear by your postal that you are getting along without an increase of suffering

My old enemy "melancholia" spreads its vampire wings still over my life and will I presume go with me

Gardner of Paisley, accepting my MS. "Walt Whitman the Poet of Humanity."

suppose his idea is that people will buy L. of G. more if they are not given the passages in question in my

I wasted many of my own opportunities."

He would not permit my defense of Oldach.

I put my hand over my heart. "From in here." He wanted to know: "Have you a safe guide in there?"

I explained: "I don't mean my future beyond this life but my future here." W.'s face lighted up.

W. poked his thumb up before my eyes.

Of course I cannot venture to give my opinion on the matter.

My eyes grow moist as I realize the sad, sad situation.

May heaven guide you to wisdom, my dear friend, my comrade indeed, my brother beloved.

'Good-Bye, My Fancy'—based, absorbed in, the natural.

And as he pressed my hand, he said slowly, "Good night." Mrs.

AS I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before

Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my

And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?

my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to

BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before

Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my

And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life?

my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to

BEGINNING MY STUDIES.

"What's all this about, my boy?"

"Is it a patent of nobility, or is it an address from a lot of my young friends?"

My paralysis has made me so lame lately that I had to give up even my walks for health, let alone my

rambles in the country, and my constitution has suffered for exercise.

TO EASE MY DECLINING YEARS.

W. said: "The reference to Hawthorne brings back to my mind a story once told me by a friend in Brooklyn

W. said again: "For myself I consider A Backward Glance my right bower."

alone: this will be my book."

would thoroughly express my idea."

My previous notes show his earlier experiments.

My letter to Hay comes back from someone in Cleveland with his London address added; too late to reach

my big tree.

I am sure I shall want to do if I ever reach my 72d.

Give him my love.

As to his health, "I am by no means gaining—I seem to stick in my low estate—no lift any way."

W. wore his bright blue gown, and said: "I have just been out to my favorite companion—the river!

My mail today had also brought me letters from Rhys, Rolleston, Rossetti and William Morris.

89If convenient please give the bearer, for the Photo: Process Co: for me, the negative of the photo: my

But it was my fault you did not find 'em. I failed to tell Ed why I had placed them there."

I had a letter from Kerr, of Unity, saying he would publish my O'Connor article, which I had sent him

samples, and he was very happy in them, saying at once on handling them: "Yes, they will do—he caught my

Adding—"I shall look at them at my leisure. And what about the cost?"

Called my attention to it. Asked me: "Is Morris unusually gay and happy?

That was a great Long Island phrase in my early days.

There was one of my English critics who dwelt upon the prominence I give to the sense of smell—gave it

Reached Camden 8:15, and after breakfast and a bath, and examining my mail, down to W.'s.

Among various letters come since my going away was this: Elmwood, Cambridge1st June, 1891Dear Sir,I very

greatly regret that, owing to an accident, your letter, though it reached my house, did not reach me

I should have been glad to add my felicitations & good wishes to yours had it been possible.Faithfully

I shall put it in my report as a footnote. W. advised simply, "Do as you will."

ME SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my

friend hanging idly over my shoulder, The hill-side whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The

press'd and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after love, The body of my

and trembling encircling fingers—the young man all color'd, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my

greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my

SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend

hanging idly over my shoulder, The hill-side whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late

en- circling encircling fingers—the young man all color'd, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my

chastity of paternity, to match the great chastity of maternity, The oath of procreation I have sworn—my

greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my

SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the mounting sun, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend

hanging idly over my shoulder, The hillside whiten'd with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same late

and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love, life that is only life after love, The body of my

trembling encircling fingers, the young man all color'd, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my

greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my

SPONTANEOUS me, Nature, The loving day, the friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly

over my shoulder, The hill-side whitened with blossoms of the mountain ash, The same, late in autumn—the

pressed and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after love, The body of my

and trembling encircling fingers—the young man all colored, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my

greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my