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has yet to be known; May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they indeed but seem) as from my

grave illness, I gather up the pieces of prose and poetry left over since publishing a while since my

For some reason—not explainable or definite to my own mind, yet secretly pleasing and satisfactory to

And thee, My Soul! Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations!

Thee for my recitative!

Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music!

The only American prophet to my knowledge who enjoys a fame in England not accorded him in his own country

, strolling tides, Companions, travelers, gossiping as they journey; And he sends it out 'partly as my

And thee, My Soul! Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations!

Thee for my recitative!

Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music!

Evidently very intelligent and well-bred—very affectionate—held on to my hand, and put it to his face

communed to- gether together Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was't charged against my

Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance

That sport'st amid the lightning flash and thunder cloud, In them, in thy experiences, had'st thou my

There is a lawless saying, fit only for the wise, but full of meaning for poets and great captains,—

I loafe and invite my soul. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of sum- mer summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from

stuck up, and am in my place.

Now comes a passage remarkable for its nobility: "With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums

I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.

are famous everywhere; and, though later efforts have been less happy, the one exquisite song, "O, Captain

My Captain!" written on the death of Lincoln, would make him one of our honored poets forever.

future," "You do not understand me, you cannot understand me, but I can wait hundreds of years for my

— The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.

"Not objecting to special revelations, considering a curl of smoke or a hair on the back of my hand just

Whitman's poems, though possessing individuality of their own: "Primary chief bard am I to Elphin, And my

I was with my Lord in the highest sphere, On the fall of Lucifer into the depth of hell; I have borne

been in Asia with Noah in the ark; I have seen the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra; I have been with my

whole universe; I shall be until the day of doom on the face of the earth; And it is not known whether my

Echoes of camps, with all th[gap] Trooping tumultuous, all[gap] bending me powerless[gap] Entering my

O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! O Captain, my Captain!

O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain, my Captain, rise up and hear the bells.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse

Exult O shores, and ring O bells, But I with mournful tread Walk the deck my Captain lies, To analyze

For illustration, he gives utterance to phrases like this: "I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it

He himself says, "Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much harm, perhaps more."

My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches

Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in

I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can

; No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair;— I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no

man to a dinner-table, library, exchange; But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My

knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my

own And I know that the Spirit of God is the brother of my own And that all the men ever born are also

my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers And that a kelson of the creation is love." . . . .

this "After the Dazzle of Day": "After the dazzle of day is gone, Only the dark, dark night shows to my

eye the stars; After the clangor of organ majestic, or chorus, or perfect band, Silent, athwart my soul

People who know absolutely nothing of his writing, either prose or verse, who have not read even "O Captain

, My Captain," do not hesitate to assail him, to excoriate him, to blackguard him with a vehemence which

I will also want my utterances to be in spirit poems of the morning.

I have wished to put the complete union of the states in my songs without any preference or partiality

Then the simile of my friend, John Burroughs, is entirely true, 'his glove is a glove of silk, but the

captain!

Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

O captain, my captain, rise up and hear the bells; Rise up, for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm—he has no pulse

But I, with silent tread Walk the spot my captain lies We have quoted enough, we think, even in these

. ∗ ∗ ∗ The successive growth-stages of my infancy, childhood, youth and manhood were all pass'd on Long

–49) and I split off with the Radicals, which led to rows with the boss and 'the party,' and I lost my

And then such lapses as these: By my great oak—sturdy, vital, green—give feet thick at the butt.

An hour or so after breakfast I wended my way down to the recesses of the aforesaid dell ∗ ∗ ∗ It was

just the place and time for my Adamic air-bath and flesh-brushing from head to foot.

Me, master, years a hundred since from my parents sundered.

If I worship any particular thing, it shall be some of the spread of my own body."—p. 55.

He explains his inspiration thus: Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It

He explains the limit of his happiness: I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To

touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand .

Whenever he does this he writes lines that will live—notably, his "O Captain, my Captain," inspired by

my Captain! our fearful trip is done.

Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!

my Captain! rise up and hear the bells! Rise up!

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still: My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse

But I, with silent trade, Walk the spot my Captain lies, In this and in "President Lincoln's Funeral

my captain! our fearful trip is done!

Leave you not the little spot Where on the deck my captain lies, Fallen Cold and Dead. O captain!

my captain! rise up and hear the bells! Rise up!

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse

But I, with silent tread, Walk the spot; my captain lies Fallen cold and dead.

results—and I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death; And I will thread a thread through my

their dead songs about dead Europe, and its stupid monks and priests, its chivalry, and its thing a-my-bobs

So says Walt Whitman in a foot-note to the little volume which he has just put forth ("Good-bye, my Fancy

Here is his poetical good bye:— Good-bye my Fancy! Farewell dear mate, dear love!

my Fancy.

Essentially my own printed records, all my volumes, are doubtless but offhand utterances from Personality

Indeed the whole room is a sort of result and storage collection of my own past life.

I round and finish little, if anything; and could not consistently with my scheme.

"'Leaves of Grass' indeed (I cannot too often reiterate) has mainly been the outcropping of my own emotional

No one will get at my verses who insists upon viewing them as a literary performance, or as aiming mainly

Bent to the very earth, here preceding what follows, Terrified with myself that I have dared to open my

echoes re- coil recoil upon me, I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my

thereof—and no less in myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my

ever united lands—my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made one identity, any more than

my lands are inevitably united, and made one identity, Nativities, climates, the grass of the great

"My young friend you ask me a difficult question.

"I would like to go on record as having a feeling of the utmost friendliness to all my fellow poets.

As to my works, I am in a peculiar position.

My works 'Leaves of Grass,' and my prose work, 'Specimen Days,' are printed and on sale, but still I

As I grow older I become the more confirmed in my adherence to my original theories.

Grant, in which are embodied all my original theories.

I think the dinner my good friends gave me recently, at Morgan's Hall, gave me a new lease of life.

"At least here I am surrounded by my books, and the roses you see my friends send me daily.

Arnold, you are right welcome to my home."

My second wife, you know, was an American lady, and that gives me a claim on your people.

There was no ceremoniousness about my visit to the President, and as a journalist I liked my brief talk

Forney asked me to accompany him, and I embraced the opportunity of briefly visiting my brother [Water

Kansas celebration, if I feel as well as now, I shall go out to Denver before I return here to pay my

"Oh, yes; I still write, and this winter shall read my own poems in public and also lecture.

"Oh (smiling), that was my 'Leaves of Grass.'

Yes, I like my present life better—rambling about a little.

I am having it printed on my own account. None of the publishers will take my writings.

I was telling a friend the other day that I was beginning to grow proud of always having my writings

My only way is to print the things myself or have them printed in the newspapers.

Rocky Mountains, three weeks ago, especially the Platte Canon Canyon , I said to myself, 'Here are my

"My idea of one great feature of future American poetry is the expression of comradeship.

couple of thousand miles, and the greatest thing to me in this Western country is the realization of my

How my poems have defined them. I have really had their spirit in every page without knowing.

treated me kindly, and the young people made a great deal of me, but, perhaps, that was on account of my

printing-house, and superintended everything, even the type in which the book was printed, and they made my

"I spent considerable time in New York," he adds, "and a number of weeks on Long Island, my native place

S o many of my good friends are here that I must call it my home."

Wilde came to see me early this afternoon," said Walt, "and I took him up to my den, where we had a jolly

things I said was that I should call him 'Oscar;' 'I like that so much,' he answered, laying his hand on my

the æsthetes, I can only say that you are young and ardent, and the field is wide, and if you want my

My idea is that beauty is a result, not an abstraction."

"So my friends tell me, but I never met him." "Don't you think, Mr.

But renewing the old fires of the rebellion was not to my taste.

I always have enough to supply my daily wants, thanks to my kind friends at home and abroad, and am in

My friends in Great Britain are very kind, and have on several occasions recollected me in little acts

"Regarding the insinuation of my being in want of the necessaries of life, I will state that I make it

You can see for yourself my present condition. Yes, I will say I am not in want.

My health is reasonably good.

"Yes," he said, "this is my first visit, properly speaking, to Canada, although I was at Niagara Falls

comradeship—friendship is the good old word—the love of my fellow-men.

As to the form of my poetry, I have rejected the rhymed and blank verse.

everything of the kind from my books."

I said, 'Perhaps not, my dear, in the way you mean, and yet maybe it is the same thing.'"

"Give my regards to all the boys in New York city, and don't forget it."

The door was opened in response to my ring by a gentle faced, wistful eyed, elderly woman.

I told him of passages in his writings which I admired and referred particularly to "My Captain," that

bells; But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck; my captain lies Fallen, cold and dead.

I had outstayed the moments to which I was pledged to limit my visit.

Remember me to all my old friends in New York."

My theory has been to equip, equip, equip, from every quarter, my own power, possibility—through science

But my mind is animated by other ideas.

My parents' folks mostly farmers and sailors—on my father's side of English—on my mother (Van Velsor's

—This year lost, by death, my dear, dear mother—and, just before, my sister Martha—(the two best and

I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood.

The six sentences may be a key to those who like me, but say they don't understand my book.

I spent considerable time in New York and a number of weeks on Long Island, my native place.

So many of my good friends are here that I must call it my home.

There are men and women—not here though—who bear my intuition and understand by their hearts.

in his "den" surrounded by a litter of books and papers: "When Osgood wrote me, offering to publish my

I must overlook the work myself and you must humor me in letting me have things my way.'

It has been my effort not to grow querulous in my old age, but to have more faith and gayety of heart

Several of the poems I wrote there if left out of my works would be like losing an eye.

Sometimes I think my Western experiences a force behind my life work.

I think it due to the fact that my work was divided equally among both opposing forces and my poetic

I think I combine that with the spiritualistic inseparately in my books and theories.

"It used to be the delight of my life to ride on a stage coach," said he.

There was my friend Jack Finley.

Oh, yes, I was answering your question as to how I spent my time. Well, it is very monotonous.

"You want to know in a word, then, the sum total of my life philosophy as I have tried to live it and

as I have tried to put it in my books.

It is only the closest student who would find it in my works.

The sum total of my view of life has always been to humbly accept and thank God for whatever inspiration

As far as my life goes it is written in the past.

For years it was my wish to live long enough to round out my life's story in my little book, 'The Leaves

I continue my work reading or writing to my friends."

as I tried to put it in my books.

It is only the closest student would find it in my works.

The table was set for four, and I, the youngest of the party and the sole representative of my sex, had

for my vis-à-vis the ample figure of the poet clad in light gray linen, his wide rolling shirt collar

I mentioned a name that had more than once come to my mind, as we talked,—Victor Hugo.

My companion assented. I added with enthusiasm, "It has been a perfectly happy day to me, Mr.

My last glimpse of him was in his house at Camden, when he was recovering from a long illness.

Finally he hitched a little closer and leaned forward to look in my face.

But he nodded, and grinned and hitched again, bringing his face close to my ear, then in a voice husky

he finally yelled right in my ear.