about 1851

It has been a long week dear Emily, for I have not seen your face, but I have contrived to think of you very much indeed, which has half reconciled me to not seeing you for so long. I was coming several times, but the snow would start the first, and then the paths were damp, and then a friend would drop in to chat, and the short afternoon was gone, before I was aware. Did Mr Dickinson give you a message from me? He promised to be faithful, but I dont suppose Divines think earthly loves of much consequence. My flowers come in my stead, today, dear Emily. I hope you will love to see them, and whatever word of love, or welcome kindly, you would extend to me, "do even so to them." They are small, but so full of meaning, if they only mean the half of what I bid them.

Very affy,
Emily.