Walt Whitman: I Saw in Louisiana A Live-Oak Growing, Original Manuscript & 1860 Edition
Channel: David Amster
Date: 2020-11-18

Text of the manuscript with the original in parentheses and the 1860 edition changes in caps.  

CALAMUS LEAVES (“Live Oak with Moss,” original title of collection, was changed to Calamus, which is why he revised one line)

I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing, 
All alone stood it, and the moss hung down 
          from the branches, 
Without any companion it grew there, UTTERING
          (glistening out with) joyous leaves of 
          dark green, 
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made 
          me think of myself, (;)
But I wondered how it could utter joyous 
          leaves, standing alone there without its 
          friend, its lover NEAR - For I knew I could 
          not, (;)
And I BROKE OFF (plucked) a twig with a certain number 
          of leaves upon it, and twined around it 
          a little moss, and brought it  away — 
          And I have placed it in sight in my 
          room, 
It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear
          friends, for I believe LATELY I think of
          little else than of them,
Yet it remains to me a curious token -
          IT MAKES ME THINK OF MANLY LOVE; (I write these   
          pieces and name them after it)
For all that, and though the (tree) LIVE OAK 
          glistens there in Louisiana, solitary, ( ) in a 
          wide flat space, uttering joyous leaves 
          all its life, without a friend, a lover, 
          near, (—) I know very well I could not.


1891 Edition (last edition before his death in 1892)

I SAW in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous leaves of 
dark green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,
But I wonder'd how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone 
there without its friend near, for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it,
and twined around it a little moss,
And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room,
It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly 
love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana 
solitary in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near,
I know very well I could not.

The portrait of Whitman is by Thomas Eakins, 1887

Here’s the link the the original manuscript:
https://whitmanarchive.org/manuscripts/liveoak.html