
I got your envelope with the proof sheet of the poem, which I afterwards saw in the magazine. Thanks.
I was delighted with the poem. No poem in the English tongue excels it in beauty or equals it in grandeur.
The Springfield Republican article I forwarded at once, as you
desired, to Dr. Bucke. I wonder who wrote it. Bucke, whom that infamous Nation article never stirred, was roused by this, and
wrote me a slogging comment on it! For my own part, it (the Republican article) made
me marvel. The implied tribute to you is so high, that the rest makes me wonder. His
interpretation (I mean the Republican writer's) seemed
to me quite an instantial piece of
pure wrong-headedness. Where you wrote "physiological", he reads "sexual", and then
makes an ass of himself in commentary.
John Burroughs is here. It is five years since I saw him, and his appearance gave me
delight. He tells me you think of settling up on the Hudson, which I should fancy a good idea.
John says he heard that Tribune article which I walloped in Bucke's book was written by a woman! This seems impossible. I cannot make my belief square with such a notion.
Au revoir. I am up to my ears in office work, wretchedly unwell, and wish I could be away. The devil Ennui has been celebrated; there is another far more terrible and malign; it is the foul fiend Routine!
Faithfully always W.D. O'Connor Walt Whitman.