am dropping with sleep, but I must just touch you and say good-night.
This was our great day of publishing, dearest, ours : all the world
knows it; and all admire your choice! I was determined they should. I
have been collecting scalps for you to hang at your girdle. All thought
me beautiful: people who never did so before. I wanted to say to them,
"Am I not beautiful? I am, am I not?" And it was not for myself I was
asking this praise. Beloved, I was wearing the magic rose what you gave
me when we parted: you saying, alas, that you were not to be there. But
you were ! Its leaves have not dropped nor the scent of it faded. I
kiss you out of the heart of it. Good-night: come to me in my first
dream!
Continued below...
