late August 1858
Some summer-afternoon, I thought - we might be acquainted, but summer afternoons to me have had so many wings, and meanwhile, you have flown! Thank you for recollecting me in the sweet moss - which your memory, I have lain in a little box, unto the Resurrection. I hoped to see your face again - hoped to see Mr Haven, and the little girls.
Though I met you little, I shall miss you all - Your going will redden the maple - and fringe the Gentian sooner, in the soft fields.
Permit us to keep you in our hearts, although you seem to outward eye, to be travelling from us! That is the sweet prerogative of the left behind.
I know you will come again - if not today - tomorrow - if not tomorrow as we count - after the little interval we pass in lifetime here. Then we wont say "Goodbbye," since immortality - makes the phrase quite obsolete. Good night is long eno',
I bid it smiling!
Last updated on April 7, 2000