My dear Stedman,
This, along with some flowers, will reach you on the morning of your birthday, while I am far out on the Atlantic. May the flowers carry to your poet-soul a breath of that happy life which seems to inspire them—and may your coming years be full of the beauty and fragrance of which they are the familiar and exquisite symbols. You have won my love as well as my deep regard and admiration. And so I leave you to understand how earnestly and truly I wish you all good.
Once more let me tell you how deeply grateful I am to you and Mrs. Stedman for all your generous kindness to me. We have all, somewhere, sometime, our gardens, where—as Hafiz says—the roses have a subtler fragrance, and the nightingales a rarer melody; and my memory of my last “fortunate Eden” will remain with me always....
I shall always think of you, and Mrs. Stedman, and Arthur, as of near and dear relatives. Yes, we are of one family.
Farewell, meanwhile,
Ever your affectionate,
William Sharp.
This note drew from the American poet the following reply:
My dear Sharp,