To Mrs. J.G. Holland
After you went, a low wind warbled through the house like a spacious bird, making it high but lonely. When you had gone the love came. I supposed it would. The supper of the heart is when the guest has gone.
Shame is so intrinsic in a strong affection we must all experience Adam's reticence. I suppose the street that the lover travels is thenceforth divine, incapable of turnpike aims.
That you be with me annuls fear and I await Commencement with merry resignation. Smaller than David you clothe me with extreme Goliath.
Friday I tasted life. It was a vast morsel. A circus passed the house - still I feel the red in my mind though the drums are out.
The book you mention, I have not met. Thank you for tenderness.
The lawn is full of south and the odors tangle, and I hear today for the first the river in the tree.
You mentioned spring's delaying - I blamed her for the opposite. I would eat evanescence slowly.
Vinnie is deeply afflicted in the death of her dappled vat, though I convince her it is immortal which assists her some. Mother resumes lettuce, involving my transgression - suggestive of yourself, however, which endears disgrace.
"House" is being "cleaned." I prefer pestilence. That is more classic and less fell.
Yours was my first arbutus. It was a rosy boast.
I will send you the first witch hazel.
A woman died last week, young and in hope but a little while - at the end of our garden. I thought since of the power of death, not upon affection, but its mortal signal. It is to us the Nile.
You refer to the unpermitted delight to be with those we love. I suppose that to be the license not granted of God.
Count not that far that can be had,Love for your embodiment of it.