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  My dear Walt Whitman,

At the moment of my departure for Vienna, where I am to assist at the Postal Union Congress, your birthday comes to my mind. I may easily be prevented from sending a letter so as to arrive on the right day, and must therefore do my reverence to you a trifle in advance.

This, then, let me do—not in the mere conventional sense in which that collocation of words is used in daily trivial life, but in the literal sense of greeting you   with a "bowed mind."

Since your protracted illness began it has been with no ordinary "happy returns of the day" interest that those who love and revere you as I do have looked forward year by year to the recurrence of your Day. This year still more than last, last year more than the year before, we have possessed our souls in hope to send you again our messages of affection and grateful solicitude.

On this seventh of May which is the Birthday of Robert Browning,   and a high day also to me as the anniversary of the first and only performance of "The Cenci," I send you my heartfelt good wishes for the new year of your life that will be commencing on the 31st of this month.

I look towards the sea and see you sitting calmly over there with your face turned to the light. Be not in haste to climb, dear Walt Whitman. Sit there, still, "calm and supercilious" (your own word​ words​ ), and receive for many years yet the expressions of our love for yourself, our   respect for your life, and our deep thankfulness for the solid spiritual aid we have received and expect still to receive from the inexhaustible treasury of your Book.

Believe me to be, dear Walt Whitman, Yours in affectionate respect, H. Buxton Forman   see notes May 22 1891