Be brave, strong, self-reliant. Then you live.
Your friend
William Sharp.
We took a small flat in South Hampstead (Rutland House, Greencroft Gardens) that stood high enough for us to see, on clear days, the line of the Surrey hills from the windows, and to give us a fine stretch of sky above the chimney pots.
The night before leaving Phenice Croft, a lovely still evening, he wrote the little poem,
THE WHITE PEACE
It lies not on the sunlit hill
Nor in the sunlit gleam
Nor ever in any falling wave
Nor ever in running stream—
But sometimes in the soul of man
Slow moving through his pain