St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1892-03-27

echo the sentiment. In Great Britain,
however, the literary world accepted
the work at Emerson's valuation, and
when Whitman subsequently followed
it up with his other poems, he was &C
corded Singularly exalted place in the
foreign world of letters. Tennyson
and Browning and Sir Edwin Arnold
and no English writer visiting America
ever neglected to call at the poets
Camden home.
Service In the Field.
The period of the poets life most pro-
life of experience ana suggestions tor
stirring verse was certainly that from
1862 to 1865. In the former year he
went to the front as volunteer nurse.
and. until hostilities ceased between
the North and South, he remained at
his post. He personally attended nearly
1000 wounded soldiers on both sides,
and his tender sympathy eased the last
days of many poor fellow who but for
him would have died friendless.
His ceaSeleSs labors in field and hos
pital afterward told Oh him, producing
the disease from which he died. Dur
ing all his active life III the war he
managed to do sufficient writing to sup
port himself and on the occasion of Lin
coins death he brought out the famous
80 Captain My Captain !" which is
probably the best known of all his
writings.
When the war was over, Whitman
was appointed to clerkship in the at
torney generals office in Washington,
which placed him in comparatively easy
circumstances for the first time in
years. Until 1878 he remained at the
capital, one of the principal figures in
the city. Then the disease contracted
in the army manifested itself in dan
gerous form known as progressive par
alysis," and he had to retire from all
active work. He took up his abode in
the poor little frame cottage at 1913
Nickel street, in Camden, n. j., just
across the river from Phila delphia.
There he remain ed until death came to
relic We him.
Neglected, but accomplishing.
1t was there, paralyzed and unable to
work, that he almost starved, until
the English appeal for aid in his behalf
awoke the American people to sense
of his condition, and led to some efforts
at raising funds for his support. But
somehow the benefits" and other affairs
given never yielded the results they
should, and a small circle of his init
mate friends were the chief providers.
Through their efforts he was enabled to
end his days in the moderate way that
contented him.
On April ID, 1887, Mr.. Whitman spoke
for the last time in public. He lectnred
at the Madison Square theater, in New
York, on Abraham Lincoln. His ap-
pearance was as striking and venerable
as ever. Long, flowing white beard !;
hair like spun silver hanging down IN
wild profusion under wide sombrero, a
strong patrIarchal face. with soft,
benevolent eyes; tall, imposing
frame, over six feet high, and still
muscular and almost straight, de-
spite the weight of years and the
ravages of disease. 1t was gener-
ally thought that it would probably be
the poets last appearance before the
people, but few months ago he man.
aged to attend Philadelphia reception
in his honor, at which Col. 1ngersoll de-
livered an eloquent address.
The New York affair was we'll man.
aged, and many prominent literary men
patroniZed it; yet, in order that the
poet might go home with $500 in his
pocket, Rev. Robert Collyer had to add
receipts. But despite this lack of APP
probation the sweet tempered old man
never felt any bitterness toward his fell
lows, and his final address to the world
breathes only the most fervent graft
tude.
Specimens of His style.
Whitman, between other writings,
continued to make the "Leaves of
Grass his special work. In 1856 he
published a second edition of the work,
and four years later third, followed
between the years of 1867 and 1882 by
five other editions. and in 1889 by the
last and ninth, with the final authentic
text. All of Whitman's readers agree
that on this work his fame will rest. A
| good idea of the poets peculiar style
and he quaint strength of his lines is
| given in this, entitled Animals
1 think could turn and live with animals
| they are so placid and self-contained;
| stand and look at them long and long.
| They do not sweat and whine about theil
condition.
They do not lie awake in the dark and weer
for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing theil
duty to God,
Not one is dissatised. not one is demented
with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind
that lived thousands of years ago;
| Not one is respectable or unhappy over the
| whole earth.
Another striking specimen of his COM
| position is entitled "Failure:"
Have you heard that it is good to gain the
| day?
also say it is good to fall; battles are lost in
| the same spirit in which they are won
| 1 beat ard pound for the dead.
| | blow through my embOuchures my lOudeS
| and gayest for them,
| Vivas for those who have failed!
| And to those whose war vessels sank in the
sea-
And to those themselves who sank in the
sea!
| And to all generals that lost engagements
| and all overcome heroes!
| And the numberless unknown heroes, equa
to The greatest heroes knoWnl
On Incidence he wrote:
loaf and invite my soul.
| lean and loaf al my ease observing spear
| of summer grass.
His Last Address.
It was published just before his las
| severe illness, which threatened at the
time to carry him off on the journey
which he viewed with the utmost com
| placency.
| Thanks in old age-thanKs ere go,
For health, the midday sun, the impalpablt
air--for life, mere life.
For beings. groups, love. deeds, words, books
for colors, forms.
For all the brave, strong men-devoted, hardy
men-who've forward sprang in free
dom's help, all years. all lands
| For Drawer, stronger, more devoted men-tt
special laurel ere l go to life's wars
| chosen ones,
The cannoneers of song and thought-the
great artillerymen-the foremost lead
ers, captains of the soul;)
AS soldier from an ended war returned-a:
traveller out of myriads, to the long pro
| cession retrospective.
Thanks-joyful thanks "a soldiers, travel