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He sends his love & his sympathy to you & asked me to order a copy of the pocket book Edition of L. of
Arrowsmith Terrace Bolton, Lancashire, England. & I should be obliged if you would kindly send the book
Whitman had a special pocket-book edition printed in honor of his 70th birthday, May 31, 1889, through
For more information on the book see Ed Folsom, Whitman Making Books/Books Making Whitman: A Catalog
He published several books on engineering and served as president of the American Society of Civil Engineers
. & Co." about the book. — I hope , & keep hoping, but know nothing . How are you? With love— E. M.
eulogy was published to great acclaim and is considered a classic panegyric (see Phyllis Theroux, The Book
eulogy was published to great acclaim and is considered a classic panegyric (see Phyllis Theroux, The Book
Whitman recorded in his Commonplace Book that the lecture was "a noble, (very eulogistic to WW & L of
speech itself was published in New York by the Truth Seeker Company in 1890 (Whitman's Commonplace Book
JWW's birthday gift to me was a beautifully got up book—"Familiar Wild birds."
s pocket book copy he felt envious.
A more acceptable present could not have been selected &, opening the book & turning over its leaves
he said "this book seems to bring him (i.e. you ) very near to me & there seems to be an air of himself
It was because we knew that you were with us in spirit & because the book had come straight from your
machine" was the common name in the nineteenth century for an adjustable reading stand used for holding books
Wallace explained that he had requested by telegram a copy of the pocket-book edition which was to be
, New Jersey Dec: 23 '90 Y'rs rec'd to–day (with pay $6.40 safely rec'd—thanks) with order for big book
Whitman's "big book" is a reference to his Complete Poems and Prose of Walt Whitman (1888).
Whitman published the book himself—in an arrangement with the Philadephia publisher David McKay, who
Best remembrances to the friends all— Walt Whitman Have sent the book to F[red] W[ild] — Walt Whitman
1891, letter to Whitman and Johnston's January 17, 1891, letter to Whitman (Whitman's Commonplace Book
some poetic stuff to Scribner's —McKay has paid me for the 100 big book sets sheets went to England—Enclose
He requested $100, but the poems were rejected on January 23, 1891 (Whitman's Commonplace Book, Charles
Street n'r Delaware river Camden New Jersey U S America Dec: 26 '90 — Herewith are copies of my big book
Whitman's "big book" is a reference to his Complete Poems and Prose of Walt Whitman (1888).
Whitman published the book himself—in an arrangement with the Philadephia publisher David McKay, who
element in a description of its effect upon me as I walked through it would lie in the influences your books
It was likely the first book the firm ever printed.
Camden New Jersey U S America Dec: 27 '90 — Dear Friend B O'D, The books, in a bundle, (four complete
filled full—$869.45 clear'd above expenses & paid to me—(I will send you the printed speech in little book
Whitman often referred to Complete Poems & Prose (1888) as his "big book."
For more information on the book, see Ed Folsom, Whitman Making Books/Books Making Whitman: A Catalog
eulogy was published to great acclaim and is considered a classic panegyric (see Phyllis Theroux, The Book
Whitman recorded in his Commonplace Book that the lecture was "a noble, (very eulogistic to WW & L of
speech itself was published in New York by the Truth Seeker Company in 1890 (Whitman's Commonplace Book
Sat: pm Dec: 27 '90 Snow storm two days—all white out—of course I am imprison'd—sent off four big books
the boys playing snow-balling &c: am rather afraid George Stafford is lingering-stricken, by acct's—Harry
Whitman's Complete Poems & Prose (1888), a volume Whitman often referred to as the "big book," was published
Frederick Oldach bound the book, which included a profile photo of the poet on the title page.
For more information on the book, see Ed Folsom, Whitman Making Books/Books Making Whitman: A Catalog
I see in Critic (Nov 29 I think) accounts of yr forthcoming book. It pleases me much. affec W. S.
favor of it—I have just had an order (with the money) f'm Melbourne Australia for four of the big books
poemets (a page intended) to Scribner's mag —have not heard yet —Mrs O'Connor "Brazen Android" MSS for book
Whitman often referred to Complete Poems & Prose (1888) as his "big book."
For more information on the book, see Ed Folsom, Whitman Making Books/Books Making Whitman: A Catalog
Harry has made application to the R. R. Co, but has not received much encouragement yet.
He was wounded in the First Battle of Fredericksburg (December 1862) and was taken prisoner during the
But I don't, so I packed up my books and came here.
Your books were so much appreciated in Oxford, and that great one you sent my father is certainly a royal
book.
for which he received $50 (Whitman's Commonplace Book, Charles E.
now read over again Preface, Poems and Notes of "Two Rivulets," and "Democratic Vistas" since the books
celebration, his Two Rivulets, an experiment in prose and poetry, with (in the first section of the book
For more information on these books, see Frances E.
If you will show me a well-written book that contains the same emotion, I agree to bind the leaves of
Saturday, May 23, 1891 ).In a group portrait of Murray, Eakins, and O’Donovan (along with Eakins’s dog, Harry
Saturday, May 23, 1891 ).In a group portrait of Murray, Eakins, and O’Donovan (along with Eakins’s dog, Harry
Saturday, May 23, 1891 ).In a group portrait of Murray, Eakins, and O’Donovan (along with Eakins’s dog, Harry
describes his room as an "old ship's cabin," writing that the floor is "cover'd by a deep litter of books
memoranda, bits of light or strong twine, a bundle to be 'express'd,' and two or three venerable scrap books
describes his room as an "old ship's cabin," writing that the floor is "cover'd by a deep litter of books
memoranda, bits of light or strong twine, a bundle to be 'express'd,' and two or three venerable scrap books
down the "Leaves of Grass" from upstairs, and we read together some of the lines most in mind, the book
WHEN I READ THE BOOK.
I have made, The words of my book nothing, the drift of it every thing, A book separate, not link'd
All the hapless silent lovers, All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked, All
book-words! what are you?
The blind sleep, and the deaf and dumb sleep, The prisoner sleeps well in the prison, the runaway son
—those hecatombs of battle-deaths—Those times of which, O far-off reader, this whole book is indeed finally
So here I sit gossiping in the early candle-light of old age—I and my book—casting backward glances over
business point of view "Leaves of Grass" has been worse than a failure—that public criticism on the book
identified with place and date, in a far more candid and comprehensive sense than any hitherto poem or book
My Book and I—what a period we have presumed to span!
I should say, indeed, it were useless to attempt reading the book without first carefully tallying that
J., has deposited in this office the title of a Book, the title or description of which is in the following
The subsequent adjusting interval which is so important to form'd and launch'd work, books especially
I answer'd, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my book
Then falter not O book, fulfil fulfill your destiny, You not a reminiscence of the land alone, You too
soldiers not for itself alone, Far, far more stood silently waiting behind, now to advance in this book
WHEN I READ THE BOOK.
I have made, The words of my book nothing, the drift of it every thing, A book separate, not link'd
drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it, Books
For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book, Nor is it by reading it you
library, Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America, Nor literary success nor intellect, nor book
for the book-shelf, But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave, For comrades and lovers.
All the hapless silent lovers, All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked, All
these sights on the earth, I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny, I see martyrs and prisoners
These eager business aims—books, politics, art, amours, To utter nothingness? THOUGHT.
, throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses' backs, The salesman leaving the store, the boss, book-keeper
book-words! what are you?
In you whoe'er you are my book perusing, In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing, All,
THE SINGER IN THE PRISON. 1 O sight of pity, shame and dole! O fearful thought—a convict soul.
RANG the refrain along the hall, the prison, Rose to the roof, the vaults of heaven above, Pouring in
In one, along a suite of noble rooms, 'Mid plenteous books and journals, paintings on the walls, fine
with iron, Who am I too that I am not on trial or in prison?
labor, suffering, I, tallying it, absorb in myself, Many times have I been rejected, taunted, put in prison
Perfume this book of mine O blood-red roses! Lave subtly with your waters every line Potomac!
THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased
things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books
mill, The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer, the reporter's lead flies swiftly over the note-book
, the sign-painter is lettering with blue and gold, The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper
Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices
Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the
drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it, Books
For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book, Nor is it by reading it you
library, Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America, Nor literary success nor intellect, nor book
for the book-shelf, But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave, For comrades and lovers.
I see all the menials of the earth, laboring, I see all the prisoners in the prisons, I see the defective
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd!
O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this? Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?
Camerado, this is no book, Who touches this touches a man, (Is it night?
I answer'd, I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my book
Then falter not O book, fulfil fulfill your destiny, You not a reminiscence of the land alone, You too
Bear forth to them folded my love, (dear mariners, for you I fold it here in every leaf;) Speed on my book