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  Dear Walt:

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.