about 20 July 1862

Dear Mrs Flint

You and I, did'nt finish talking. Have you room for the sequel, in your Vase?

All the letters I could write,
Were not fair as this -
Syllables of Velvet -
Sentences of Plush -
Depths of Rub, undrained -
Hid, Lip, for Thee,
Play it were a Humming Bird
And sipped just Me -