
I have taken so much pleasure of late in re-reading your work
that I would not render my spiritual dues did I not write to you
to thank you, for
so making me see America. I live in a quiet way, shun literary society,
but gather around me those who are interested much in the spiritual
problems of life. Like you I believe all things to be spiritual, and
all things possible
to creative spiritual power. I have
read "Pioneers, O Pioneers" over and over again to my many friends,
who study not books but life. The poem is a
trumpet tone, and it will lead the new poets of America.
You have caught the spirit of the genius of our land, and have sung the
song of the latest and
finial march of the
races. Tacoma, Seattle, Vancouver
and Victoria face Asia, and in these cities is Ultimate America, and you
have sung the march of the races
towards the Puget Sea. I met Joaquin Miller at Tacoma last summer,
and there dreamed over
again your dream of America.
I love to read your address to time, and to quote "I once was visible."
I have your picture in my room, and I never see it or take up your book
without feeling what a glorious knighthood it is to be an American. I
send you a few poems of my own. I shall be glad if they please you.
Immortality—I wish I knew how you view it now in your serene years,
when the drum taps have ceased. I hope that the doors open wider and wider
as you go on, and that so it
may be forever.
I am not a person that makes literary visits, but I wish that I could meet you
this summer, on my return from Montana. Whether we ever meet or not, I thank
you for the inspiration I
have caught from your torch of life,
and am ever,



















