Writings by Susan Dickinson

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Syracuse -
Oct. 13. '76.

My dear Susan -

Sometimes in the
middle of the night, often
in lonely/lovely[?] rides over hills
crowned with sunlight, or
in dark hallways, & in the
midst of lunch/church[?]-services,
or here in my cozy "study"
with books for walls (or
windows?) but[?] ? come of
all those perfect places where
we move every-day, between
Holyoke & Toby. I see every
curve of the outline of
the first with its perfect

grace, -- & the broad, [rarified? ?ing?]
slopes of Toby, & the
[? Glen?] line[?] clear beauty
of Mt. Warner, & the long
lines of Pelham; & the
? under ? west of
the River. There are the
Elms, the walnuts, the
Chestnuts, each with its own
shade of brown, -- the lingering
leaves of the Sumach, the
infinite varieties of [quinces?].
I smell[?] the breath of the
[?]. There comes a shooting
pang of homesickness, -- & I
plunge ? into work or
? & , & get con=
tented. But when you say
that I might actually see
all that glory with you,

riding & ? & talking with you, -- to dispel
the dream is not so easy. The homesickness
stops, & will not go. -- almost any horse
will do for two riders!

Five minutes before I opened yr letter -- thanks
for it the ?, -- I was thinking I w'd
certainly write to-day to A/D[?]. & tell him the
whole story of that ?-? rascal & his impu-
dence; & I think I will yet. It is so ?-
?sly uncomfortable to be swindled --

But the ride, the ride! The evening
is full of splendor, & there you are starting off,
& the ? landscape is a pageant. What do
these limitations & inabilities mean: if

Papers of Susan Dickinson,
Box II, Series A,
Brown University Libraries

I & not Brother Seelye was President, it w'd
be Amherst officially[?] the year round! But somehow
it w'd not be well[?], or else it w'd be: for I
am an optimist, so far. I believe in God, & God
is good: & there is no good but in Him, & of
Him. -- Do you ever find a fringed gentian?
If you do, keep it, for me. There is no flower that
is more lovely on earth, & none that has in its bloom[?]
more of Heaven: -- the year's last & sweetest blossom.

I keep on writing because it is so pleasant.
But I will stop, & see neither the valley
nor you. But I shall try to see both
in Nov. James is at home again. All are
busy as bees with work & study.

"In haste but most truly," F.D.H.

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Last updated on January 25, 2008

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