y
y
V?
n .i
y
y GOODBYE AND
HAIL
WALT WHITMAN
AT THE GRAVESIDE OF WALT WHITMAN: HARLEIGH, CAMDEN, NEW JERSEY,
MARCH
30th
AND SPRIGS OF LILAC
EDITED BY HORACE
L.
TRAUBEL
Here then Comrade, Breathe from these fragrant leaves love, exaltation, renewal: Through Him, through You, the Future. With reverent hand I gather cmd
In pledge
tie
eternal.
1892
a few stray blossoms here
Copyright, i8q2, by Horace L. Traubel
VS 32.36"
7
Billstein
&
Son, Philadelphia
.
On
.
.
" Some solemn immortal birth;
the frontiers to eyes impenetrable,
Some soul is passing
over."
!
—
!
Good-bye, Walt Good-bye from all you loved of EarthRock, tree, dumb creature, man and woman To you their comrade human.
The last assault Ends now, and now in some great world has birth A minstrel, whose strong soul finds broader wings, More brave imaginings. Stars crown the hill-top where your dust shall lie, Even as we say good-bye, Good-bye, old Walt
Edmund
Clarence Stedman.
AT THE GRAVESIDE OF WALT WHITMAN FRANCIS
HOWARD WILLIAMS:
These are the words of Walt Whitman
Come
and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely
:
lovely
arriving-, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death. Prais'd be the fathomless universe,
For
andjoy, andfor objects and knowledge
life
And for love, For the
—but praise /praise
sweet love
sure- enwinding
arms of
!
curious,
praise !
cool- enfolding death.
Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome ? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.
Approach strong deliveress, When it is so, zvhen thou hast taken them I joyously sing
the
dead,
Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee, the flood of thy bliss O death.
Laved in
From me to thee glad serenades, Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee, And the sights of the open landscape and the high-spread sky are fitting,
And life and the fields, and the
huge and thoughtful
night.
The night in silence under many a star, The ocea?i shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know, And the soul turning to thee O vast and well-veiVd death,
And the
body gratefully nestling close
to thee. (7)
At
8
of Walt Whitman
the Graveside
Over the tree-tops Ifloat thee a song, Over the rising and sinking waves, over the myriad fields and the prairies wide, Over the dense-pack'd cities all and the teeming wharves and ways,
Jfloat this
THOMAS
We
O death.
carol with joy, with joy to thee B.
HARNED
:
have come here to-day to entomb the body of Walt
Whitman.
We do not come in sadness.
The
great singer of
death and immortality would have us utter only words of joy.
We who have been the personal witnesses of his daily habit have no
right to
be
In the presence of death
silent.
duty to give testimony to the consistency of his I
am
for
1873, poor, paralyzed
many
and
years.
sick.
would be prolonged.
the nursing of soldiers. ministry.
With
history of the
No
to
this city, in
Camden
sacrifice.
in
He had no thought then that He had given his best years to
tongue can
tell
the extent of that
war presents no instance of nobler
duty or sublimer
last days.
He came
untiring fidelity he served his country.
the terrible strain, and this
The
fulfillment of
The stalwart physique broke under man came among us to spend his
For more than seventeen years he has been a
familiar figure.
During these long years of suffering no one
has ever heard him utter a word of complaint. his gentleness, his charity, his
spiring
becomes our
life.
charged with the special duty to speak for
which he has lived
his life
it
and cheery
We
know
wisdom, his simplicity, his
voice, his majestic
and venerable
strong and classic face, cast in an antique mould.
of in-
figure, his
We
have
seen him on our streets, or frequenting the ferry-boats, or driving over the neighboring roads.
from every walk of
humble.
He
life,
more
His companions have been
especially
among
the poor
and
has taken a personal interest in the welfare of
mechanics, deck-hands, car-drivers and other sons of toil.
He
At was the
the Graveside
of Walt Whitman
and they
friend of children,
all
more
for the
Although
loved him.
persons of eminence in literary and public age, he cared
g
paid him
life
hom-
common
companionship of the
people.
How
fitting
it
is
supreme juncture to proclaim
at this
magnificent courage
Every moment of
!
He
the teachings of his books.
his
life
his
with
tallied
never bent the knee to wealth
His love of humanity was so broad that to him
and power.
He had
the ragged urchin was as dear as the learned scholar.
a message for mankind, and what he had to say he said with fearlessness
He
and without apology.
the most adverse censure
;
and when,
never flinched under
in
his declining years,
he realized that he had been accepted and honored by the greatest
men
serene.
Let the day bring health or sickness, pleasure or pain,
gain or
of his
loss, praise
own
time, his
modesty was
childlike
and
or censure, he ever journeyed "the even
tenor of his way."
A dominant
trait
of his character was gratitude, and
because of his personal request to
me
"Don't
citizens.
he was one of
forget,"
he
said,
"to
their
it is
speak to-day to
I
Camden
return his thanks to the people of acts of kindness while
that
for their
many
humble fellow-
say, thanks, thanks,
thanks."
Year by year he grew sened, until, at ability to
last,
work, his serene
tered or declined.
No
and
his ability to
walk
faith, his
;
les-
but his
joyous courage, never
fal-
His tenacity of purpose never weakened.
one could detect any intellectual sluggishness or the timidity
of age. I
feebler,
he could not leave the house
His keen insight and clear vision never
deem
it
my
failed him.
duty to mention two important facts
:
one, his
POSITIVE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY, and the Other his FEARLESS-
NESS OF DEATH.
With him immortality was not a hope nor a
beautiful dream.
At the Graveside of Walt Whitman
io
He
believed that
man
is
we
an eternal universe, and that
all live in
His views of
as indestructible as his Creator.
ions of others,
reli-
He was
tolerant of the opin-
and recognized the good
in all religious sys-
gion have been misunderstood.
tems. His philosophy was without the limitation of creed, and
included the best thought of every age and clime.
This last,
faith in the immortality of identity remained to the and he gladly welcomed death as the " Usherer, Guide at
We who have visited him
last to all."
death carol waited for
**
in his sickness
know
of
He who
sang the immortal lovely and soothing death " with the
his utter fearlessness of death.
serenity of a child. is finished. The consecration is complete. we have known him have any of us known him ?
His life-work
We say
;
Does not such a
life
baffle
our understanding ?
Camden will be best known and honored because it has known and honored Walt Whitman. In this beautiful and fitting burial-ground we place all of him that is mortal. Future generations
their adoration of
will visit this shrine in
one of the world's immortals.
FRANCIS
HOWARD WILLIAMS
These are the words of Confucius All the living must
die,
:
:
and dying, return
to the
ground.
.
.
The bones and flesh moulder away below, and hidden away, become the earth of the
and
is
But
fields.
the spirit issues forth
displayed on high in a condition of glorious bright-
ness.
These are the words of Gautama The
state that is peaceful,
from fear, where It is
free
:
from
birth or death is not,
body,
from passion and
—that is Nirvana.
a calm wherein no wind blows.
Nirvana
is
the completion
and
opposite shore of existence,
:
At free
from
Whitman
ji
restraint,
and of great
the Graveside of Walt
decay, tranquil,
knowing no
blessedness.
The wind cannot be squeezed be told.
Yet the wind
Even
is.
in the hand,
so
Nirvana
nor can
its
color
is.
These are the words of Jesus the Christ Blessed are the poor in spirit ; for theirs
kingdom of
is the
heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn ; for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek ; for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness ;
for they
shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful ; for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart ; for they shall see God.
DANIEL G. BRINTON
:
Friends of the dead, comrades and lovers of him left
us
— We
meet
to
thoughts have forged the bonds between in
midwinter
abided until
us.
We
has
life
and
feared that
he would have been taken from us the flowers of
who
him whose
bid farewell to
come
spring had
to
;
but he
deck
his
sepulchre, and until the leaves of grass, typical to his soul of
the mystic energy of nature, stretched out their tender fronds
toward
his
tomb.
His contending
has reached the end of the untried
spirit
roads he loved to follow. crises
he has fought out the
Through sharp fight,
eyes fixed on the well-marked goal.
beyond the "frontiers
defeats
and baffled
ever marching on with clear
His
spirit
to eyes impenetrable."
has passed
The "dark
mother, gliding near with soft feet," has taken this child to her
sure-enwinding arms, and laves him
We stand on the hither shore,
in the flood of
her
bliss.
and our eyes have not force
to
search the dimness of the floating ocean into which he has
journeyed.
Let us turn to note the legacy he has
left.
At
12
No
the Graveside
was
idler
no
he,
of Walt Whitman
dallier with the
golden hours, but
He
arduous, contentious, undissuadable and infinitely loving.
came bearing the burden of a Gospel, the Gospel of the Individual Man he came teaching that the soul is not more than the body, and that the body is not more than the soul, and ;
that nothing, not
God
himself,
is
greater to one than one's self
is.
He
asked no
man
to accept his teachings, or to
him master.
disciple, or to call
above the heads of world.
It
all
become
his
His strong voice resounded
high men, and over the roofs of the
challenged alike wealth and power, and want and
death, proclaiming that man, the one man, the individual,
every individual, has
all rights
and
powers,
all
of the world, sole ruler of the universe his claims
and make good
—
let
the autocrat
is
him only enforce
his title.
His words are perpetual warnings to all sects and syndicates, to all leagues
and orders which bind men's minds or muscles
to the bidding of another,
or in action
;
which make them slaves
and a warning against
own
bondage
to one's
fears, to
accepted and self-forged shackles.
gain true freedom, a new, an electric
the
of one's
life,
was
for
life
He who
self, let
him
rors
and certain end.
to try to alarm him.
had given up
truth "without
and
his secret,
joy.
left
with
Idle, indeed,
Almost did
and
in his ear
Death had come
to
that
had whispered
him
name," the " word unsaid," not
whose embracing " should awake him.
seem
it
King of Terto
mean
to
be found
"in any dictionary, utterance, symbol," the creative friend
patiently,
consign to the clasp of the tomb.
to him, as to the mighty sage of Kapilavastu, the
hints of cheer
would
and body stinging with
meaning of that legacy of verse
fear that fatal
Death
theught
traditions, to cultivated
feel soul
whom now we
Never did he it
imbibed
to
who would
persistently seek the
us by him
self,
in
and commoner
that worse
the
sign, " the
—
At
Whitman
the Graveside of Walt
Therefore he harbored no suspicion of death not that his concern, and that of all men, with
life
;
ij
but he forgot
not with death, but
is
not with that which cannot be said, but with that
;
the saying and doing of which will help the
the strong,
weak and gladden
the fallen and enlighten the thoughtful, spread
lift
men and
robust love between
tender sympathy among
women.
This was his practical mission.
On
the portal of the holiest shrine in ancient Greece were
inscribed the words, " Pilot of the Galilean
Know
Lake
thyself" the message of " the was " Deny thyself" the iteration
"
;
;
whose mortal
of this child of the doctrine of the inner light,
remains
we now
consign to the tomb, was " Be thyself."
They are the evoluThey are all embraced in one of him whom Walt Whitman in his strong and homely
There
no
is
conflict in these teachings.
tion of the self-same sentiment. line
phrase called " the boss of us
all
"
" Self- reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,
These three alone lead
Be
thyself
suffer neither the tyranny
;
power."
to sovereign
life
which comes from the
assumptions of others, nor that which proceeds from thine lower nature
one
;
own
true to thyself, never canst thou be false to any
—to man, to woman, or to God. This was his teaching to bid farewell — the long, the timeless farewell.
whom we now
FRANCIS These are the words
He for a
it is
of the
who made
light.
.
HOWARD WILLIAMS Koran
the sun
:
:
for a brightness and the moon
.
.
Verily, in the alternation
of night and day, and in what
God
has created of the heavens and the earth, are signs unto a people
who do fear. Verily those
.
.
who
.
believe
and do what
is right, their
Lord
;
At
14
the Graveside of Walt
Whitman
guides them by their faith ; beneath them shall rivers flow in the
gardens of pleasure.
These are the words of Isaiah
I
Lord,
me, thine anger Behold,
is
God is my
salvation ;
believeth in me, though he
me
the Life, saith the
age and
and now we consign
who
will cut
he also
is
live ;
that
and
shall never die.
hour and place
mortal of a great man, a his
be afraid
Lord ; he
were dead, yet shall he
RICHARD MAURICE BUCKE friends, this
ever, for here
ivith
:
and
the Resurrection
whosoever believeth in
I will trust and not
my strength and my song ;
is
These are the words of John
My
angry
turned away, and thou comfortedst me.
for the Lord fehovah become my salvation.
1 am
:
will praise thee ; though thou wast
man who
will
to
:
be memorable
for-
rest all that
was
its
has graved a deep mark on
a yet deeper furrow across the face
of the future.
There
He
is this difficulty in
was so
great,
speaking about Walt Whitman
he stood so apart from, so
men, that when one who knew him attempts those
who
as cause
Not only
far
:
above other
to depict
him
to
did not, the reporter inevitably makes such claims
him so,
to
be charged with extravagant exaggeration.
but on account of the greatness and especially of
the universality of our friend even those
who
lived close
about
him, though conscious of remarkable qualities in the man,
were almost never able
man
to realize in
any adequate degree the
himself.
Over and above
all
ordinary greatness (greatness of per-
ception, of intellect, of will, of moral qualities, of intuition, of spiritual exaltation
and
illumination,
and accurate expression— and
all
and of the power of keen
these greatnesses and
many
At more he
of Walt Whitman
the Graveside
and above
had), over
it
may be
these he had in an eminent
all
degree that crowning endowment,
15
faculty, quality, or
which causes a
called, the possession of
whatever
man
be
to
picked out from the rest and set apart as an object of affection.
own
In his to
"he
vivid language,
has the pass-key of hearts,
him the response of the prying
Our very presence here
of
to-day,
hands on the knobs."
many
of us from distant
States and provinces, testifies to the truth of what
had our hearts and
lives
more emphatically of the place
tell far
I
say
;
but
adequate voices, many of them would
taken by our dead friend
them
in
been
that has
though a stranger, has
for he,
;
been to many of us closer than the closest
—more
than
the
all
rest.
You know say
all this
an old
is
as well as
All that
I.
You, as well as
story.
I,
I
have said or can
know
the place he
occupies in the eyes of the world to-day, and the place he
occupy
You, as well as
in the future.
occupied
in
our hearts and
present with you, as
it is
scarcely lessened by the is
done and well done,
lives.
with me.
the
— and will
memory
That loss or
I
live as
The deep
And
sense of loss
is
is
knowledge that the work of our and
that,
he more than ever before
of great deeds and heroic lives and deaths.
am
so
majestic spirit
not overwhelmed and crushed, either by our this occasion, that I
am
who
is
so infinitely low before (his) mighty so simple, (he) so august " is cause of
fallible, ;
I
astonishment to myself, as I
friend
though
long as the heart of humanity beats at
by the gravity and greatness of
— "I
to
our grief to-day
can stand here and speak calmly of our great friend
gone
is
he has
feel the place
his rest well earned,
to our senses dead, yet, in reality, lives
I,
—
it
may be to you. far more than by my own.
well
sustained by his strength
1
have not known him, loved him and studied him a quarter of a century for nothing.
At
16
His
the Graveside of Walt
Whitman
trust in the essential friendliness to
universe
that happens
go well
shall
eternal, beautiful right
the limits of any
me
been to
I
;
is
or
all
of us
his conviction that death ("
God's
hand," as he named
in fine, his
;
of the infinite
he and
his absolute assurance that
;
came well and but a good
man
calm and contented acceptance of all that
his
;
faith, intense,
it) is
glowing,
not an evil
vital
have elsewhere known or read
the great solace of
my
life,
beyond have
of,
and are to-day
my
powerful and sufficient support.
The
my
old days in which his presence was so large a part of
come back
life
enveloped but
I
in
to me,
and
do not lament or
repine,
Whatever others may think or
I
that
Time
Spirit
shall
I
who
am
say,
by the great soul which has just
mind
live constantly before
a haze of sadness (how could
I
it
me,
be otherwise ?)
;
tranquil
and resigned.
(inspired
and informed
us)
left
have made up
my
not give in to this arrogant and masterful
desires to deceive
and enslave
us.
I
am
not
going for one instant to admit that Time, Death, or any other
power or influence can take from us what we have once had. The good days of the past live yet, and will always live in the good days of the present and
equally
die, they
future.
They do not
have not died, they are absorbed, transmuted, grow,
are never
lost.
This universe
is
not the hollow nutshell containing the rot-
many make it. It is vital and infinite—" in vain I try to think how infinite." Infinite not in one way, nor two ways, but in an infinite number of ways. What the uni-
ten kernel that so
!
verse not capable of satisfying our needs
we
?
On
the contrary,
are capable of feeling but a fraction of the wants that
it is
able to satisfy. In this satisfied
And
if,
faith,
and
learned from the friend
whom we
mourn,
I
rest
at ease.
dear friend,
we now
place in the
tomb your body,
At that
yon
after all a small matter.
is
You will be You will be to
farewell.
than ever.
we can is
the Graveside of Walt
We do
Whitman
not entomb you nor bid
much as ever and more much as ever you were, and
with us as us as
love you and serve you as well as
You
called living.
as you have said
are in
fact,
if
you were
and more than
still
what
ever, living
;
:
" The best of me then when no longer
visible, for
towards that
have been incessantly preparing."
I
" That
Unto
God
dear
shall take thee to his breast,
his breast
Shall splendor
be sure
;
spirit,
and here on earth
upon thy name forever."
sit
You were no common man when you earth,
jy
and today you are no
common
lived with us here
spirit as
on
you stand amid
the innumerable host before the throne of God.
own right you took rank here below as a supreme workman in your own right to-day you take rank
In your creative
among
;
the supreme creative gods.
There
in the highest regions of the ideal
your work forms the
will
for countless
ages
go on moulding into higher and yet more noble
spirit of
man.
Your life for me lit up the past with an auroral splendor, and upon the world's future you will shine a glorious sun, but the present is darkened by the sombre shades of your setting. But our ever pain that
last
word
we may
to
you must not be a mournful one, what-
feel.
Let
it
rather be a cry of exultation
you were given to the world, and that we
have,
known you
and know you.
That
it
has been
my good me even
and your teaching
fills
sense of triumph
and
are others
on
that
;
I
fortune to this
rejoice to think
who know you and whose
knowledge
know both
yourself
day with an unbounded and believe that there
record shall help to carry
to future generations.
At
i8 All that
"
me I owe
best in
is
shall honor,
to you,
and as long as
And though no And
no
less, I proffer
HOWARD WILLIAMS
:
:
end of the third night, when the dawn appears,
it
soul of the faithful one as if it were brought amidst
seems
to the
plants
and a sweet-scented wind.
And it seems to him him
it
bid thee enter gloriously thy rest."
FRANCIS
to
live I
glance reveal thou doest accept
These are the words of the Zend Avesta the
I
thank and serve you.
My homage —thus
At
Whitman
the Graveside of Walt
as if his
own
in that wind, in the shape
armed, strong,
.
.
.
conscience were advancing
of a maiden fair, bright, white-
thick-breasted, beautiful
And
as fair as the fairest things in the world.
faithful one addressed her, asking :
she answered,
I am
thy
own
of body,
.
.
.
the soul of the
What maid art thou ? And
conscience.
These are the words of Plato
:
Considering the soul to be immortal and able to bear all evil
and good, we
shall always persevere in the road which leads
upwards.
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL: Again we,
in the
mystery of
with the mystery of Death.
A
Life, are
brought face to face
great man, a great American,
the most eminent citizen of this Republic,
and we have met I
He
to
know he needs no words
of mine.
laid the foundations of
deep
brain.
lies
dead before
pay a tribute to his greatness and
it
His fame
in the
human
us,
his worth. is
secure.
heart and
He was, above all I have known, the poet of humanity, He was so great that he rose above the greatest
of sympathy. that he
met without arrogance, and so great
that he stooped
to the lowest without conscious condescension.
He
never
claimed to be lower or greater than any of the sons of men.
At
He came
into our generation a free,
with sympathy for
He
sick.
Whitman
the Graveside of Walt
ig
untrammeled
spirit,
His arm was beneath the form of the
all.
sympathized with the imprisoned and despised, and
even on the brow of crime he was great enough to place the kiss of
One is
human sympathy. of the greatest lines in our literature
is his,
and the
line
great enough to do honor to the greatest genius that has
ever lived.
He said,
speaking of an outcast
sun excludes you do
I
"Not
:
till
the
exclude you."
His charity was as wide as the sky, and wherever there was
human suffering, human misfortune, the sympathy man bent above it as the firmament bends above the
He was built
on a broad and splendid plan
of Whitearth.
—ample, without
appearing to have limitations—passing easily for a brother of
mountains and seas and constellations little
maps and
;
caring nothing for the
charts with which timid pilots
hug the shore,
but giving himself freely with recklessness of genius to winds
and waves and
tides
among
caring for nothing as long as the stars
;
He
were above him.
walked among men, among
verbal varnishers and veneerers,
among
writers,
literary milli-
ners and tailors, with the unconscious majesty of an antique god.
He was
the poet of that divine democracy which gives equal
and daughters of men.
rights to all the sons
great American voice
Republic.
more
No man
;
He
uttered the
uttered a song worthy of the great
ever said more for the rights of humanity,
in favor of real
democracy, of
real justice.
scorned nor cringed, was neither tyrant nor slave.
He neither He asked
only to stand the equal of his fellows beneath the great flag of nature, the blue
He was
loved the clouds light,
sea
and
stars.
the poet of Life. ;
It
was a joy simply
the wind, the winding streams.
when
to breathe.
He
he enjoyed the breath of morning, the twi-
He
loved to look at the
the waves burst into the whitecaps of joy.
He
loved
At
20
the fields, the
Whitman
the Graveside of Walt
hills
;
he was acquainted with the
saw these them
objects, but
that he
He was
trees, with
He
birds, with all the beautiful objects of the earth.
not only
understood their meaning, and he used
might exhibit his heart to
his fellow-men.
He was
the poet of Love.
not ashamed of that
home
divine passion that has built every
in the
world
that
;
divine passion that has painted every picture and given us
every real work of art
world worth living
He
in
that divine passion that has
;
made
and has given some value to human
was the poet of the
ashamed of that which
natural,
natural.
is
and taught men not
He was
the life.
to
be
not only the poet
of democracy, not only the poet of the great Republic, but he
was the poet of the human
He was
race.
limits of this country, but his
not confined to the
sympathy went out over the seas
to all the nations of the earth.
He how
high,
He
hand and
stretched out his
kings and of
all
princes,
felt
himself the equal of
and the brother of
all
men, no matter
no matter how low.
has uttered more supreme words than any writer of our
He
century, possibly of almost any other. things, a
man, and above genius, above
peaks of intelligence, above than
all
all is
all art, rises
all
all
the true man. Greater
among
the true man, and he walked
was, above
the snow-capped
fellow-men
his
as such.
He
He
was the poet of Death.
death, and he justified
He
all.
accepted
and was great enough and splendid enough and
to accept all there
You know
is
better than
say one thing
:
all life
had the courage
life
I
what
his life
Knowing, as he
creeds, all religions,
did,
and believed
was a sky that embraced
all
and
meet
all all,
to harmonize all
as a divine melody.
of
has been, but
in
let
me
what others can know
and what they cannot, he accepted and absorbed all
to
none.
all theories,
His philosophy
clouds and accounted for
all
—
At clouds.
He all,
He was
he understood
all,
believe
I
absolutely true to himself.
men
the sons of
light.
his
own,
others.
He
all.
He had frankness He was willing
and that
should be absolutely acquainted with his
He
heart and brain.
—than
and he was above
courage, and he was as candid as all
21
had a philosophy and a religion of
broader, as he believed— and as
accepted
Whitman
the Graveside of Walt
pure, serene, noble,
had nothing to conceal.
and yet
for years
Frank, candid,
he was maligned and
slandered, simply because he had the candor of nature. will
be understood
—his
and
yet,
— will
frankness, his candor
He
which he was condemned
that for
add
to the glory
and great-
ness of his fame.
He
wrote a liturgy for mankind
did psalm of
life,
and he gave
he wrote a great and splen-
;
to us the gospel of
humanity
the greatest gospel that can be preached.
He was not afraid to
not afraid to die.
live,
and ready to meet and greet
many months he
sat in the
this
For many years
He was
he and death were near neighbors.
always willing
king called death, and for
deepening twilight waiting for the
night, waiting for the light.
He never lost his
hope.
When
he looked upon the mountain in
the mists filled the valleys,
tops,
and when the mountains
darkness disappeared, he fixed his gaze upon the In his brain were the blessed
his heart
He
were mingled the dawn and dusk of
was not
afraid
that they might clasp the
come, Walt Whitman stretched
sisters of the night,
tears,
he reached
The They remained
hands and greet with smiles the
veiled and silent sisters of the night.
nymphs
in
life.
he was cheerful every moment.
;
laughing nymphs of day did not desert him.
side were the
stars.
memories of the day, and
his
And when
hand
to them.
they did
On one
of the day, and on the other the silent
and
so,
hand
in
his journey's end.
hand, between smiles and
At
22
From
Whitman
the Graveside of Walt
the frontier of
life,
from the western wave-kissed
shore, he sent us messages of content
messages seem now tic
like strains of
and hope, and these music blown by the " Mys-
Trumpeter" from Death's pale realm.
To-day we give back to Mother Nature, to her clasp and kiss, one of the bravest, sweetest souls that ever lived in
human
clay.
Charitable as the air and generous as Nature, he was negli-
gent of all except to do and say what he believed he should do
and should
And all
I
say.
to-day thank him, not only for you but for myself, for
the brave words he has uttered.
thank him
I
for all the
great and splendid words he has said in favor of liberty, in favor of
man and woman,
fathers,
in favor
in favor of
of children, and
motherhood,
in favor of
thank him for the brave
I
words that he has said of death.
He was
has lived, he has died, and death
Thousands and millions
before.
is less
will
terrible
than
it
walk down into the
shadow " holding Walt Whitman by the we are dead the brave words he has spoken
" dark valley of the
hand. will
Long
sound
And so I loved him
after
like
trumpets to the dying.
lay this living,
wreath upon
little
and
I
love him
this great
John burroughs
When
man's tomb.
I
still.
:*
saw the crowds of common people that flocked to Walt Whitman's funeral to-day, I said, how fit, how touching, all this is how well it would please him. It is from the comI
;
mon
people, the great
army of workers,
speaks with such power and authority.
that he rises
and
His poems are
all
attuned to broad, universal humanity.
*
Not uttered at Harleigh.
Mr. Burroughs was present, but did not speak.
At
the Graveside of Walt
not the specially
It is
his enthusiasm, but the
23
privileged few that elicit
man and woman
of trades
and
remember once calling his attention to a story a magazine, wherein some typical western frontier charac-
occupations. in
endowed or average
Whitman
ters
I
He
were portrayed.
not do at
all,
never
way
to
;
would
down upon
or treated in the
men always
them
treated
so,
in this
but great
and he instanced Tristam Shandy as the proper
do this
thing.
always that of
is
it
manner in which they were treated
Small, perky
men
that
it,
homely, unlettered pioneer
characters were not to be looked scornful, supercilious story.
reading
said, after
that those large,
The atmosphere which his poems breathe
common humanity — never
that of select,
specially cultured, privileged humanity. It
may seem difficult
at first to reconcile his
attitude in this respect with our
bright the ideal of a rare really
need
and high excellence.
The loftiest we know can go
" are the only investments
know that
more or
less,
possibility in
commonplace every-
worth anything."
true greatness, true nobility,
says Goethe, " the
Arnold,
with
We are all under
of the cultured, the refined
are quite apart from these things.
no
more one
"
;
yet
we
and strength of soul
The
older one grows,"
prizes natural gifts, because
can they be procured and stuck on."
whose essay on Milton
I
find this
country was that
the " average rare
man
we were
inclined to
remark quoted
make
to a higher average,
Whitman would
and
still
lift
in
a religion of
man," and therefore of losing the saving
and high excellence.
by
Matthew
from Goethe, thought that one danger that threatened us this
is
"Charity and personal force," the poet says,
day humanity.
the illusion,
keeping
But there
heroism, the deepest and
no discrepancy.
purest spirituality,
atmosphere and
at all times of
ideal of
the average
to a higher, without at all
abating the qualities which he shares with universal humanity as
it
exists over
and under
all
special advantages
and
artificial
At
24
He says
selections. his "
the Graveside
Leaves
"
of Walt Whitman
one of the convictions that underlie
that
the conviction that the " crowning growth of
is
the United States
is
to
confess, which, with
be
spiritual
seem very near
ride us, does not
and heroic,"
—a prophecy,
I
Hillismand Quayism threatening to overfulfillment.
—perhaps you are the
"I announce a man or woman coming one, I
announce
a
great
individual,
fluid
affectionate, compassionate, fully I
announce a
life
that
shall
as
nature,
chaste,
armed,
be copious, vehement,
spirit-
ual, bold,
And
announce an old age that
I
meet its
shall lightly
and
joyfully
translation."
Arnold said we had
lost in the
sense of distinction in this
country, and found our great historical characters, like Lincoln, deficient in this quality.
No doubt this is
so;
no doubt
distinc-
— that something about a man and his work that like cut glass — does not flourish in democracies, where there are no tion
classes
is
;
it
belongs
to aristocracies.
But there
is
another
we cannot do without, and which such Lincoln show. I mean elevation — elevation of
quality close akin which
characters as
thought and sentiment. ness and large views.
poetry and prose. is
lofty
The
a quality which goes with serious-
It is
It is
very pronounced in both Whitman's
spirit,
and uncompromising
at times.
especially in the prose writings,
—almost
passion and contentment, where he the lover, the elevation
from his reader share.
arrogant and dictatorial
In the poems, where he gives fuller play to his
We feel
;
it is
is
is
less the critic
not of the kind that separates him
like that of nature, in
that here
com-
and more
is
which we easily
a soul whose range of thought and
emotion are vastly beyond our own, and yet who
in
nowise
stands aloof or apart from us, or from the lowest of his fellows.
SPRIGS OF LILAC Alfred Tennyson,
of Wight
Isle
Walt with the two boys, and he
[to
H.
J.
J. ,N.
K)
.-
thank you for the papers and the photograph of brave old
I
on
set
my
I
few unimportant
was much touched by the value letters to
him.
John Addinglon Symonds, Davos, Switzerland: It is a good and just thing, this which the love and service of Whitman has wrought for us all. It is what his spirit, if it soon arrives as the best
at a fuller
knowledge of the whole,
outcome of his teaching
emotion noble in
ship, sensitive pulsation of
men
so far apart.
...
He may
great light will be extinguished
words which he has
left
;
will appreciate
—this creation of comradeits
quality,
between
and a
die this year or that,
but he
behind him,
the
will live forever in
in the spirit
he has created
beneath the dry ribs of intellectual and academical death. .
.
You do
.
man
not know,
I
can never
...
has been to me.
abused the privilege of reading
my I
anyone, what Whit-
in that
book.
It
know at
my
made me another man. made me a free man he helped me
that he
it
.
:
chosen trade,
was made to do
not
revolutionized
previous conceptions, and
only
work I
tell
am not sure whether I have
I
;
to
literature, for better or for worse, as
made me
but he also
love
my
brethren,
and seek them out with more perhaps of passion than he would himself approve.
Working upon a nature so prepared
was, the strong agent of Whitman's
produce a fermentation.
now
because, while
...
Whitman
must hear what one of his
is
I
spirit
pour
as
could hardly all this
mine
fail
lying on his death-bed,
disciples
to
out upon you
you
— a man sworn to him unto
the grave—has to say about the effect of his prophecy.
Sprigs of Lilac
26
William Michael Rosselti, London : I
need not
you or Whitman with how much
tell
regard his book, sent to
me
by him as
affection
I
from out of the jaws
if
The sight of it has incited me to re-read the poems as well as new, and I once again feel, what I have never doubted since 1855, that Whitman is one of the great spirits of the age, destined to leave his mark on this of the tomb.
entire book, old
and other
centuries.
H. Buxton Forman, London:
The
we have
grief
during these months,
all felt
when we have
thought of the sufferings of the good old man, has been en-
hanced by our knowledge that you, our good friend and faithful
Now, however,
eternal harassments.
Loving Walt as
must do
his
Achates, have also been suffering mental pain and
I
do,
the worst of this
ten-fold more,
it is
over.
impossible not to rejoice that his
dreadful misery, so heroically borne,
For
mortality of fame begun.
have much to do
is
and as you who knew him personally
is
yourself,
for Walt's affairs
;
I
ended and
know you
his
im-
will still
but with your indomitable
this will
be as nothing compared with
what you have gone through.
Therefore, on this solemn oc-
and unlimited energy,
own
casion, to use his
congratulate you." for
nothing
;
but
I
I
words, "I do not commiserate you,
wish
I
could be at the funeral
:
I
wreaths go
should like to bring to the solemn ceremo-
nial the tribute of a
bent head and a
bowed mind.
Edivard Carpenter Holmesfield : >
How happy it has the
spirit,
been
for us to think that you, his
son after
were with him constantly to the very end
— that he
could always turn to you, as to some one he could speak to without to him.
effort,
when more
casual friends were only a burden
But what a grief to
you—so
long drawn out
—to see
him day by day, by almost imperceptible changes, drawn
far-
Sprigs of Lilac ther and farther away, till
as
amid clouds and storms of
suffering,
Much
he became the mere shadow of the friend you loved. I
realized his vitality
He
would die so hard. all
27
of death
—
in
and
tenacity,
I
never thought that he
seems
certainly
have experienced
to
himself as well as in others— as one
he has experienced
of
all
life.
For
his
death
I feel
may
say
only thank-
fulness.
London:
T. W. Rolleston,
Certainly the insight
language classic
German
reception of Walt has
shown more
and comprehension than that of lands where is
spoken.
Here, however, he
A great change has
now.
dozen years or
so.
You
Libraries, for instance.
There
ward.
is
I
find
is
really
his
taken place during the
books
his
fear things in
in the
America are
back-
still
not enough genuine culture there, than which
nothing so truly emancipates and ennobles the taste.
poets and thinkers— the its
last
Free Public
men who
phenomena
in the
mean
I
the culture gained from absorbing the spirit of the great
world and
own
becoming a
Greek
faced the problem of the freest
and sincerest
spirit
ever known.
Rudolf Schmidt, Copenhagen : To Walt Whitman my loving
farewell.
I
have known him
since January, 1872. f.
W. Wallace, Anderton: I
cannot help feeling sad at heart.
that our true tribute should
sake,
And
yet
and of sacred pride and joy and triumph
victory he has won.
memory
It
would seem
to harbor sadness
now
know
I
be that of rejoicing
for
full
well
Walt's
own
in the
supreme
like treason to Walt's
that his warfare
is
ended and
he has entered upon the transfers and promotions he looked forward
to.
A
wonderful spectacle
!
A
crowning confirma-
28
Sprigs of Lilac tion of his past
life
and teaching
lay in the unruffled serenity
and
sweet content and cheer with which he accepted such terrible suffering, I
and the constant loving kindness of
his great heart.
speak words of thanksgiving and triumph, of strong and
will
sacred joy, in the flawless victory of Walt's direst foes
and
to
of the supremacy of the soul and
all
begun,
sorts of
recognize his
The
love.
good and
every
unmistakably ing in
over the
and the immortal assurance he has given
faith,
future times right
spirit
— his simplicity and sweetness of perfect acceptance
full
to
endless
influence
his
His
life.
is
its
fame
rapidly
unexpected quarters, and myriads stature
to all
native is
spreadwill yet
and think of him with measureless
brave, pathetic figure of Socrates drinking the hem-
lock has rivetted the attention and swelled the heart of ages.
But Walt, greater than Socrates,
The
will
have a dearer renown.
on
great center of our wide comradeship has passed
shame upon us if we loose each other's account. The ultimate victory of his work is
into other spheres, but
hands on that
My
inevitable as gravitation. his continued identity
or any reasoning whatever the
consciousness,
actual
were
in closest
spirit is uplifted
and triumph
—a sense
—deeper sight
and stronger the
mastery of his strong and heroic soul over
and
dissolution,
who saw
splendor through
all,
physical conditions
his faith
cannot but
—rather like
You, who who saw every day the
of
intimacy with him,
by a sense of
above conviction
soul.
all
physical wreck
and love shining feel
was only triumph
in clear
that his release from
— outlet
to higher des-
tinies.
John Johnston, Bolton: Your last batch of for,
letters, in
which you say that you "hope
yet dread the release which will take
ever," that
most
feel
"he speaks
him from us
for-
loving words of you all," that you
your sorrow "too keenly to bear up under
it,"
al-
and
:
Sprigs of Lilac that
"he
is
2q
unmistakably on the way to die," affected us most
The
profoundly.
fatal
cable message
After the is
known and loved him,
privilege of having
having been loved by him
— our dear
him and mourn him
He
as a son.
undaunted, and nothing
shock
first
the glory and the
and, better
still,
of
dead father and friend
he was to me, and
for father, indeed,
!
Ours
a mighty calm overspread me.
I feel
a
filial
regard for
crossed the border line
in all his life
so
much became him
as
his death.
Ellen
31. O'
Connor :
Your telegram announcing the death of our beloved Walt was forwarded me at Boston, and I got it yesterday. The Sunday papers had the news, and though unlooked-for,
it
was
even when you
is,
out of
back
my
could not have been
— death always
by the side of the dying.
sit
The
thoughts a moment.
and strength, and
in vividness
it
shock and surprise
at last a
Walt
old days and times
I
is
not
come
live in the past again.
Elizabeth Fairchild:
So
the great soul has passed out of the trammels of the
What he has done
flesh.
He
of this country show. safety to us will
:
all his
my
Though
inspiration
to
warn
and
modern
my
He
it is
impossible for
to
silent, will
is
like a
beacon
set
life.
In
on high
dangers of the rocks and shallows of
has
known
and the reward he most cared rades," has always been his.
Let the great soul pass
he
me
thought and sympathy, greet
trumphet-call to the end of
literature
sailors of the
that sea of ink.
in
His voice, that can never be
lovers for me.
the flux of
has pointed the only way of
our gratitude as individuals and as a nation
be to walk therein.
be with you to-morrow except
be
freedom may the future
for
!
the flavor of his immortality,
for,
Why
the "faithful love of
com-
should earth detain him
?
Sprigs of Lilac
30
Herbert H. Gilchrist :
had just hurriedly dipped into the
I
a
edition (in
poems
poems which seem every year
;
line, in
magnificent isolation.
touched at receiving Sidney Morse
up
glorious
in heroic out-
you how
tell
was
I
friend at such a time.
:
daily,
No
peacefully, happily.
come finally, The work done. Everything
monthly, yearly, has
regret.
should be, as he wished
it
my
satisfactory
Walt's
to rise
cannot
I
from
this gift
The end expected as
and
inviting
becomingly simple dress) of
it
to be.
summer— a
picture for the eye,
heart of
who, passing, paused
all
window, or by
I
think of him that
an encouragement for the for a friendly
''have a bite" in the sunny
little
kitchen beyond.
One noon, Aunt Mary,
be-forgotten days!
word by the
shadowy
invitation entered through a
hall to
Never-to-
tired
from her
"cieanin' up," but proud that she was "born the
Next day "some foreign
and month as he." announced
—but
not a bit "foreign" after
same year gentleman"
when once he
all
had crossed the threshold of the democrat and breathed the air of
Mickle Street.
Then, another noon, crowding the front
doorway, a bevy of English against the sunlight
"Come
our places at the table.
We
move
radiant,
girls,
rosy,
grouped
—a beautiful tableaux as we see them from
together a
little
right in, darlings,"
at his
command.
he
cries.
Mrs. Davis,
always ready for every such emergency, lays the plates, and those three English
girls,
who "must
they miss Niagara," dine for the
take in Walt
first
time,
it
Whitman
may
if
be, in a
kitchen, their joy in "actually being there " receiving no detri-
ment from the surroundings.
It
was so with
all
comers.
beats the dickens," said the old farmer from Georgia, " soul and tell it) I
to
"
It
how may
mind do triumph o'er all else." In a dream (if I met Whitman in company with others who appeared
be offering him greetings.
They were on
the shore of a
Sprigs of Lilac vast ocean, the roar of which
He
"
music.
seemed
to
me
like
deep organ
come forth from the bath," I thought I " Here I am," said he, advancing to where
has just
heard one saying. I
j/
stood, speechless, gazing, " refreshed, renewed, for cycle on
cycle— time no more " !
John Herbert Clifford: It was a great honor and sacred service to be of the friends chosen to bear Walt Whitman to his resting-place. For one, I
have nothing but high, serene
and heard witnesses,
this day.
Even
if
satisfaction in all
I
have seen
there be no multitude of fresh
now that he is gone — as Landor says that of the men sometimes cry recognition, just as they who
noble dead
say nothing of the sun's shining through the day exclaim,
when he
is
gone,
"How
gloriously he set!"
years cannot but bring him to his own, his ing the last
word with him, and asked
private
he
here of Matthew Arnold,
visit
if
I
—
own
still,
coming
to him.
Dur-
had the honor
of a
he knew Whitman. " No,"
said, with long languid drawl, suited to the slow-rising eye-
brow, "
I
can you this,
don't tell
when
Well,
I
know Whitman, have
me what
related to him, Walt's only
But
Upon
comment was: "Ah?
guess Arnold never did see me." There be, say some,
whose gaze upon Whitman like
not read his books.
Longfellow thought of him?"
is
too fixed, so that they
become
who looked at the sun till he could see Whitman is a sun, but his shining shall be
Goethe's traveller,
nothing
else.
not less beneficent for loving eyes blinded by "vision splen-
him "dark with
did," nor for blinking critic peepers that find
excess of light."
William Sloane Kennedy : Yes,
" Walt
my is
heart
is
gone,"
I
sad and heavy whenever
keep saying
nepenthe to dull pain
—as
if
I
am
alone now.
there was narcotic or
in that idea. All the
day
this conscious-
Sprigs of Lilac
32 ness
is
with me, or rather
pleasant, cheery voice
am
I
keep trying to
My
no more.
is
realize that that
heart
waving,
now he
is
The
gone.
I
and
all
the rest
live,
nor ever,
Hamlin Garland: The whole temper of the
spirit
and
that
I
you
believe.
republic in letters, as in politics,
Whitman's prophecies are being realized— not
changing.
in the exact
go down
—not while
colors shall never
he has so bravely borne for thirty-seven years
is
I
We will keep the " flag of man "
homely ballads of the people.
and
is sair, sair.
reading his favorite book, The Border Minstrelsy —those
form
in
which he seemed to expect them, but
in
His enemies are almost gone.
interior purpose.
Those who know him admire and love him. Sylvester
Baxter :
Those of us who had the
privilege of personal contact with
dear old Walt were favored of centuries tinue to speak to
men
Thomas Bailey Aldrich: Have sent you a wreath /.
—but he will long con-
as face to face.
for
Whitman.
Newton Baker: I
have followed
all
the steps and taken
these last days of sorrow
anxious care
away
—the
nights of
—the long imminence, the
—the sealing
the days of
scenes
—the laying
from sight forever— all the
And
and words.
final
them with you
vigil,
then
the
found tongues of praise that merit too late uttered
last, last
things
— the newlybefore were silent — the meeds of awakened
interest
—but, but and but.
John H. Johnston :
How that
funeral
years not one like
What can we
day
it,
will cling
nor
and grow
will there
say of Ingersoll
?
It
be
in
!
In a hundred
another hundred.
seems now as
I
think
it
over
:
Sprigs of Lilac that his speech
over Jesus
him
if
was
jj
one as Paul would have made
just such a
he had lived out his days, and Paul had known
in the flesh.
Percival Chubb
must join
I
in the
chorus of tribute, regret and thankfulness.
Harry L. Bonsall: Those who knew Walt Whitman loved him. Those who became imbued with the spirit of his poetry and philosophy revered him. Those who did not understand him ranked him with inscrutable mysteries, which, the less
exempt from
if
not solvable, were none
No man
profanation.
with heart or
As a god from high Olympus simple human guise, in physique and
brains ever despised him.
he walked the earth
in
mentality, expression tial
and
action, looking,
and being
number we have
scribed but constantly growing
the
first
set
up
great democratic poet and philosopher. for ourselves
in
without
politics,
rated
some
as
servilely seeking in poetry,
we will lead instead Walt Whitman has blazed the
extent, in art, as in utilities,
of following the old world. forests of our tangled
be
him
As we have
medieval or even modern European methods, so and, to
in essen-
With a circum-
essence, the character attributed to him.
pathway with sturdy strokes, and
less difficult to follow than
it
short lifetime, covering much,
was if
to lead the way.
will
it
In one
not most, of the literary
life
of our country, his voice has been heard and heeded on both continents.
masses.
Whitman's work was not
Like Lincoln, he believed
appreciation of the
common
for the
masters but the
in the
apprehension and
—the
whole people of
people
these states, and of the reading world, for that matter.
man who esteemed
himself as a type of
derstood by them than are those
who
writing for the schools and the fools
all
men
is
The
better un-
follow the schools in
who
soar above their
:
Sp^gs of
34
Lilac
endowed to scale Whitman, the equal of any, peer of princes and
kind, thinking that few are sufficiently well their heights.
presidents, shakes hands with Cuffee, his brother, as well.
The pretenders
in literature
But fortunately
for poor, conventional literature, not
nearly
are pretenders
all,
and transfuses
itself into
;
cannot approve of this
and as the
spirit
leveller. all,
nor
of our poet infuses
the circulaticn of newer blood,
we
believe the verdict will be that this day the Poet of the People,
humble Camden
the Peer of the Proudest, lay dead in his
home. Daniel Longaker I feel
that
have gained from Walt Whitman direct benefit
I
far greater than material
rendered him.
mean.
am
I
am
I
reward
any services
for
I
may have
confident you will understand what
not thinking of any indirect benefit
good my association with our departed my own character. I have realized an and breadth of view of
life
and
affairs
I
—only of the
friend has
wrought
in
enlargement of scope
which
on with the advancing years— the impulse of
I
believe will it
all
go
originating
in that association.
Harry D. Bush : Walt
is
give you
dead.
my
money."
The
for
me
I will give
Other men may
children of
have
But
hand,
he
still
you
die.
:
" Camerado,
I
will
my love more precious than He will always live for me.
Camden may have
lost less, for
says
lost their Kris,
but
we
Walt's personality must live forever in his
book.
Richard Watson Gilder : I
hope the wreath and flowers arrived
very
much
to-day,
and
grieved not to be able to be there in person.
I
was
:
He was in love with truth and knew her near— Her comrade, not her suppliant on the knee She gave him wild melodious words to be Made music that should haunt the atmosphere. She drew him to her bosom, daylong dear, And pointed to the stars and to the sea, And taught him miracles and mystery, And made him master of the rounded year. :
Yet one gift did she keep. He looked in vain, Brow-shaded, through the darkness of the mist, Marking a beauty like a wandering breath That beckoned, yet denied his soul a tryst He sang a passion, yet he saw not plain Till kind earth held him and he spake with death. Harrison
S. Morris.
At
the last, tenderly,
From the walls of the powerful fortress' d hmtse, From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep Let me be wafted
of the well-closed doore,
.
Let
me
glide noiselessly forth;
With the key of softness unlock the locks— with a whisper, soul. Set ope the doors, '
Tenderly— be not impatient, mortal is your hold love)." Strong is your held
(Strong
flesh,
PRECEDENT PAGES Some solemn immortal birth," Wall Whitman, Good-bye, Walt," Edmund Clarence Stedman,
At the Graveside of Walt Whitman Readings, Francis Howard Williams,
:
3
5
at Harleigh
7
Address, Thomas B. Harned, 8
Readings, Francis Howard Williams, 10 Address, Daniel G. Brinton,
11.
Readings, Francis Howard Williams, 13 Address, Richard Maurice Bucke, 14
Readings, Francis Howard Williams, IS Address, Robert G. Ingersnll, IS
A Subsequent Sprigs of Lilac
:
Note, John Burroughs, 22
Clipt from
Sundry Letters
Alfred Tf.nnyn.on, 25
Sidney Morse, 30
John Addington Symonds, 25
John Herbert
William Michael Rossetli, 26
William Sloane Kennedy, 31
H. Buxton Forman, 26
Hamlin Garland, 32
Edward
Sylvester Baxter, 32
T.
W.
Carpenter, 26
TJiomas Bailey Aldnch,-i2
Rolleston, 27
JRudolf Schmidt, 27 J.
IF.
I.
Wallace, 27
Newton Baker, 32
Joftn
«7b/m Johnston, 28 2s7/fen J/.
Clifford, 31
if.
Johnston, 32
Percival Chubb, 33
O'Connor, 29
/Tarry £. Bonsall, 33
Elizabeth Fairchild, 20
Daniel Longaker, 3i
Herbert H. Gilchrist, 30
£farrj/ Z>. JSmsA, 34
Richard Wakon Gilder, 34
He was in love with At the
last,
truth," Harrison
tenderly,"
FFaft
S. Morris, 35
W'A#ma«, 37
*
rff
*fi3* 7 PS 3235 T7
Traubel, Horace At the graveside of Malt Whitman
Si PLEASE
CARDS OR
SLIPS
UNIVERSITY
IS
DO NOT REMOVE FROM
THIS
OF TORONTO
LIBRARY
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