. Your story I did not, could not, know,—I thought only of a Peri. I
you had confided in me, not for your sake, but mine, and to prevent the world from losing a much better poem than my own, but which, I yet hope, this
clashing
will not even now deprive them of
.
Mine is the work of a week, written,
why
I have partly told you, and partly I cannot tell you by letter—some day I will.