about 1882

Dear friend,

My Mother and Sister hoped to see you, and I, to have heard the voice in the House, that recalls the strange Music of your Father's - A little Bin of Blossoms, I designed for your Breakfast, also went astray. I hope you are in strength, and that the Passengers of Peace exalt, not rend your Memory - Heaven may give them rank, it could not give them grandeur, for that they carried with themselves -

With fresh remembrance,

E. Dickinson.