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I am writing in my office. I can just see to write without the gas and that is all.

Nearly every one at my house is more or less sick—some of them pretty bad (but nothing dangerous so far

Rudolf Schmidt, Dear Sir & Friend, Your magazine with the article on my book has safely reached me—&

I will write to you thence more fully, & hope to continue having letters from you—My address will be

I send you a paper same mail with this, containing a little piece that describes my case.

I have not forgotten you, my loving soldier boy, & never shall. Walt Whitman 322 Stevens st.

WASHINGTON, D.C., Mch March 25 18 80 Walt Whitman Esq Esquire My Dear Sir: For years I have been your

I have taken the liberty to send you three small volumes of my own You may not agree with me.

I feel, however, unable to withhold my tribute–feeble as it is and I can only pray you to forgive my

U S A Down here again spending a few days—nothing very different—pretty much the same story of all my

Philadelphia to-day for store goods—Do you know of David Bogue, bookseller, Trafalgar Sq: Square who publishes my

My opinion that the book is a success (in the most important requisites) is to-day more decided than

Did you see my article in Critic of Nov. 24?

328 Mickle Street Camden New Jersey Jan: 25 '87—noon My dear friend Arthur The box (Oranges) has just

different from usual late years, but older, more broken & paralyzed—I have a little old cottage of my

My dear friend, I write mainly to see whether I have got the right address—to find whether this reaches

My health has been good—& I have got through the hot weather all right—It is a long while since I have

sister —think ab't about it all—very quiet here the last two days—few visitors & then I send excuses—eat my

meals fairly—just had a good little broil'd broiled mutton chop for my supper (Still eat no dinner)—

"Every fine day I have my stalwart attendant wheel me out, often to the Federal street ferry, where,

As Carlyle says in his life of John Sterling, many of my seances with O'Reilly are written in star-fire

meeting at Young's was a most memorable one, and Emerson was kind enough to select the passages from my

England are imperative and I must soon sail for merrie England, and after a short stay I will keep my

promise to visit you and to renew my pleasant memories of the Pacific slope.'

then: "Well—do so then: and I will come down when I am ready—and shall not hurry—shall quietly finish my

tell an Englishman in his talk—but lately one or two instances have come up which completely stagger my

But he did not despair of America: "There were years in my life—years there in New York—when I wondered

Worth my while to look up?"

—and assenting with a "do—be sure to do it then" when I suggested bringing my own paper down.

My mail contains letter from Bucke, 17th, which anticipates an early end for W.: 17 March 1892My dear

"So you did—he is in the next room"—at which she called my name and I responded.

He repeated the sentence after me, "Will give me 25 books—five for my own use, 20 for my friends?

Wd. you give him my love & reverence, if manageable.At the crisis of his recent illness I was of course

And again, "On my right side I choke. One way or another I suffer all the time."

W. said, "The thing appears to have been in today's Press—I sent my copy to Bucke.

If you can get occasion, I wish you would thank Walsh for me—tell him of my gratitude.

W. remarked, "It arouses all my dormant desires. What a treat to go over!

I expressed to W. my doubts about naming the magazines which had rejected him (in a note entitled "Two

Laughingly: "I even dictated to the Truth fellows the date on which to print my piece, but they took

Yet in my heart I do feel some fear that his forebodings are not unreasonable.

My determination invincible.

He grasped my hand and held it, saying, "I am glad to have it again: it carries me into my right humor

My New Ideal piece out. Had no copy with me. Have sent copies to Ingersoll and Baker.

Thought my souvenir would be "thoroughly unique: I almost enviges you!"

O earth that hast no voice, confide to me a voice, O harvest of my lands—O boundless summer growths,

you dread accruing army, O you regiments so piteous, with your mortal diarrhoea, with your fever, O my

Nor do I forget you Departed, Nor in winter or summer my lost ones, But most in the open air as now when

my soul is rapt and at peace, like pleasing phantoms, Your memories rising glide silently by me. 6 I

All till'd and untill'd fields expand before me, I see the true arenas of my race, or first or last,

O earth that hast no voice, confide to me a voice, O harvest of my lands—O boundless summer growths,

you dread accruing army, O you regiments so piteous, with your mortal diarrhoea, with your fever, O my

Nor do I forget you Departed, Nor in winter or summer my lost ones, But most in the open air as now when

my soul is rapt and at peace, like pleasing phantoms, Your memories rising glide silently by me. 6 I

All till'd and untill'd fields expand before me, I see the true arenas of my race, or first or last,

I went the other day by appointment to visit him at his home in Camden, and after my usual quantum of

A few commonplace words and I settled my mind to business.

I project the future—depend on the future for my audience.

I know perfectly well my path is another one. Most of the poets are impersonal; I am personal.

In my poems all revolves around, radiates from, and concentrates in myself.

W. reading Record, which he laid down instantly on my entrance. Had gone through the Press.

"Hardly: but I know it—I have sized it up: he has my respect: his erudition is profound.

"I frequently wake up so, but I get my nerve back as the day wears on."

"Yes," he said: "my appetite went back on me—lost its edge."

"I wrote on your account, not my own." I said: "I'd rather never have gone to him."

Sat so for the greater part of my half-hour's stay—closing the window finally himself.

I showed him where he had put it yesterday after my reading.

till I am interfered with—till my freedom is invaded: and what I offer for the individual—to me as a

W. said: "I am glad to hear you say that: it confirms my own theory: I never lived out my idea: I let

Do you understand my bad English?

I think I shall remodel my piece (that I sent Walsh of Lippincott's) and make it into a review of the

Kennett Square, Penna.Nov. 12, 1866.My dear Sir: I send to you by the same mail which takes this note

, a copy of my last poem The Picture of St.

The age is over-squeamish, and, for my part, I prefer the honest nude to the suggestive half-draped.

If I had stopped to dispute with my enemies, even to dally or luxuriate with my friends, the book would

Gave me My Book and I to take over in the morning—that "to be the opening piece."

That's because I don't always agree with my- self about Stedman.

W. jumped on me for my "radical violence."

"He has not sent the poem back—has not answered my note in any way. I do not understand it."

That may be true: I wouldn't go to the stake for my opinion on this subject."

My two acquaintances were both born and bred in the city; they both were sent to good schools; both had

And yet no man can differ more from my friend H OM than does my friend T OM .

My friend H OM is, at the same time, very much of a gentleman in his manners.

Now all that my friend H OM is not , my friend Tom B EPRIM is .

When I meet H OM in the street, he always grasps my hand, and salutes me by my first name.

It was putting my own feeling into words. Seemed to sum him up!"

W. then: "Take my advice: shut up!"

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.

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

Court of Arizona, Tucson, Arizona Terr Sir: I have received your letter of the 10th ultimo, asking my

Marshals—and therefore I cannot answer your letter officially, but I have no hesitation in giving you my

hundred dollars, unless it is given to them by Territorial law, or some law of Congress which has escaped my

Whitman's own experiences during this visit to the front.The soldier's epitaph—"Bold, cautious, true, and my

The latent meaning submerged within "my loving comrade" as the antithesis of "true," in other words,

"My book and the war are one," Whitman would assert in "To Thee Old Cause" (1871); in "Toilsome" that

And on my assent—"Did you know his brother Johnny?"

he continued—adding thereupon—"This letter here on my lap is from the brother Johnny—as I knew him, a

Kennedy—Sloane's wife—happened in today: came about eleven—that was one of my changes of garments."

s, finding at my mother's on the way this special delivery letter from the Telegram office: The Evening

"It was my first struggle in that field and it will be my last." Sunday, February 14, 1892

I have followed it right along, myself—often to the horror of my friends.

Now there ought to be someone to write up about my Dutch forebears.

I may say I revel, even gloat, over my Dutch ancestry. Burroughs? Yes, perhaps, or some other.

I spoke of its wonder and W. repeated my word—admitting it had "wonder: that first wonder—influence—which

"Enviged" me, he said smilingly, my prospective roamings this day.

"I am sorry for my imprisonment—but glad I have a good prison," etc., with a laugh.

and then in the silence, Alone I had thought—yet soon a silent troop gathers around me, Some walk by my

side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck, They, the spirits of friends, dead or alive—thicker

lilac, with a branch of pine, Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pulled off a live-oak in Florida

cooking—Otherways I have been here in C. all the time, have done a little work writing, but nothing much,—My

little talk—did me good to meet them—I dont don't think Jersey has two nicer looking boys—I was on my

got there I found the elder A. was dead & buried —so I have just had to write the sad intelligence to my

I wish you would speak to M c Kay about the circulars he was to print for me in re my vol. "W. W."

We are all well here, I am up to my eyes in work, have to write my annual report in the next two weeks

this morning from a young presbytarian clergiman clergyman —a good friend of yours ) but we want (to my

I think you are right to stand aside (personally) from this I. demonstration but for my part (as a friend

For my part nothing could give me greater satisfaction than a rousing demonstration on the part of I.

If I am so fortunate as to regain my health I hope to weaken the force of that statement, at least in

sofar as my talent & training will permit.

My artistic enthusiasm was never so thoroughly stirred up as by the indians They certainly have more

13 April 1867 April 13th My dear Walt it is saturday Saturday afternoon and martha is gone away and hattie

the bustle I have lived in the country so long it seemed quite strange i suppose Walt you have got my

waiting to take the letter i am about the same some days i feel very well then again i feel quite spry my

have the breeze through—I can have what I wish in the grub line—have plenty of good strawberries—& my

much change so far—but I feel comparatively comfortable since I have been here—& better satisfied — My

a bad spell—have distress in the head at times, but keep up a good heart—or at any rate try to—Give my

the cars on the great Plains on the eastern frontiers of Colorado Well Lou Dear, I suppose you got my

in the cars writing this, (have a leaf-table before me to write on) 1 p m flying along, I can p with my

help her—two beautiful little children—she is groaning as I write— Denver Colorado Evening I finish my

S.W. 15 June 1880 My dear Friend You see I venture to salute you, & to write to you in the same strain

His son, & my son-in-law, Lionel Tennyson, lives in London for some ten months out of the twelve, at

She is re-editing the Life of Blake, & I have a few of his letters, & she has been once or twice in my

little plus)— I went down last month to spend a while with the Staffords at their new farm, but I miss'd my

& heaped just now, as I have been down stairs to see what the post man left me— I am sitting up in my

miss them)— I am busy a little leisurely writing—think of printing soon a smallish 100 page book of my

Monday p m All ab't about the same with me—I took dinner with the Scovel family Sunday & a ride with my

W W My Dear Friend: I get a few good letters on my little essay on the poets.

quite good spells—but am not feeling well just now—have got over to the office, & am now sitting at my

hear of many cases, some good, some unfavorable— As to myself, I do not lose faith for a moment, in my

—I am feeling better—my head is some easier—Love to you, dear mama, & all— Walt.

All I mark as my own, you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.

I know I am august; I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself, or be understood; I see that the

My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite; I laugh at what you call dissolution; And I know the

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

Before I was born out of my mother, generations guided me; My embryo has never been torpid—nothing could

Stopped upon my entrance. Talked freely at once. "What news do you bring?"

Then he questioned me about my "day's doings."

He was on to my point. "Well—he was warmer then than he was later on."

I slept in my boat or under it all the time.

Well—Brinton ought to know: with John and with him on my side I am well defended.

Left word with my father for me to say to W. his feet were too bad for him to try to get to Mickle street

Consults with my father concerning these.

My life from my bed to my chair, from my chair to my bed again, is tedious, but endurable."

With my help W. closed the blinds, shoved the chairs about into position and lighted the gas.

dedicate" 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.'

Took the Carlyle book from my hands—looked at picture of Mrs. C.

"I don't know what from, but my head was struck by a strange qualmishness.

My dear sir:Please accept my lasting acknowledgements for the copy of November Boughs so kindly sent

I sought only through Tom Harned a line from your hand to place in my copy of Leaves of Grass.

If you ever come my way I know a place hard by where a bottle of the reddest Burgundy may be found that

today, that last night you brought me palpable evidence of the book's completion—that I held it in my

For my own part, I would not rise out of my chair here to go into the fight—to cast a vote."

and having my "yes"—he quizzed, "What is it all about? What is it all for?"

Took an absorbed interest in my account of Clifford's noble speech—its unwelcome—its courage.

After awhile noticing my interest, he asked: "You find it attractive, do you?

Much better"—and when I spoke of the weather as inducing it, possibly, he said— "I am more apt to say, my

I give you the same privilege I demand for myself—the privilege of believing that in my own affairs,

My hands are all over honey—honey"—and washed them as I waited.

He said: "I was a great spouter in my early days—even later on—had my favorite pieces—these among them

Yes, 'A Voice Out of the Sea,' my own piece was one—one of many.

In a case so obvious it would seem as though things might very easily be brought to a head in my behalf

W. gave me what he called a "document" to go among my "war records."

children in age yet—so good, so sweet, so brave, so decorous, I could not feel them nearer to me if my

W. laughed: "If I had my way," he said more gravely, "I'd try my medicine first on the rich—make them

I contend that I am the safest of men—that my gospel is the safest of gospels.