summer 1860?

The prettiest of pleas, dear, but with a Lynx like me quite unavailable, -- Finding is slow, facilities for losing so frequent in a world like this, I hold with extreme caution, a prudence so astute may seem unnecessary, but plenty moves those most dear, who have been in want, and Saviour tells us, Kate, "the poor are always with us" -- Were you ever poor? I have been a Beggar, and rich tonight, as by God's leave I beleive I am, the "Lazzaroni's" faces haunt, pursue me still! You do not yet "dislimn," Kate, Distinctly sweet you face stands in its phantom niche -- I touch your hand -- my cheek to your cheek -- I stroke you vanished hair, Why did you enter, sister, since you must depart? Had not its heart been torn enought but you must send your shred? Oh! our Condor Kate! Come from your crags again! Oh: Dew upon the bloom fall yet again a summer's night. Of such have been the friends which have vanquished faces -- sown plant by plant the churchyard plats and occasioned angels. -- There is a subject dear -- on which we never touch, Ignorance of it pagentries does not deter me -- I, too went out to meet the "Dust" early in the morning, I, too in Daisy mound possess hid treasure -- therefore I guard you more -- You did not tell me you had once been a "Millionaire." Did my sister think that opulence could be mistaken? -- Some trinket will remain -- some babbling plate or jewel! I write you from the summer. The murmuring leaves fill up the chinks thro' which the winter red shone, when Kate was here, and Frank was here -- and "Frogs" sincerer than our own splash in their Maker's pools -- Its but a little past -- dear -- and yet how far from here it seems -- fled with the snow! So through the snow go many loving feet parted by "Alps" how brief from Vineyards and the Sun! -- Parents and Vinnie request love to be given Girl -- Emilie --