26 September 1870
Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs - only pathetic counterfeits - Fabulous to me as the men of the Revelations who "shall not hunger any more." Even the Possible has it's insoluble particle.
After you went I took Macbeth and turned to "Birnam Wood." Came twice "to Dunsinane" - I thought and went about my work.
I remember your coming as serious sweetness placed now with the Unreal -
Trust adjusts her "Peradventure" -The Vein cannot thank the Artery - but her solemn indebtedness to him, even the stolidest admit and so of me who try, whose effort leaves no sound.
You ask great questions accidentally. To answer them would be events. I trust that you are safe.
I ask you to forgive me for all the ignorance I had.
I find no nomination sweet as your low opinion.
Speak, if but to blame your obedient child. You told me of Mrs. Lowell's Poems.
Would you tell me where I could find them or are they not for sight?
An article of your's, too, perhaps the only one you wrote that I never knew. It was about a "Latch."
Are you willing to tell me? If I ask too much, you could please refuse - Shortness to live has made me bold.
Abroad is close tonight and I have but to lift my Hands to touch the "Hights of Abraham."