XXI.
My dear Fanny,
I think you had better not make any long stay with me when Mr. Brown is at home. Whenever he goes out you may bring your work. You will have a pleasant walk today. I shall see you pass. I shall follow you with my eyes over the Heath. Will you come towards evening instead of before dinner? When you are gone, ’tis past—if you do not come till the evening I have something to look forward to all day. Come round to my window for a moment when you have read this. Thank your Mother, for the preserves, for me. The raspberry will be too sweet not having any acid; therefore as you are so good a girl I shall make you a present of it. Good bye
My sweet Love!
J. KEATS.
XXII.
My dearest Fanny,
The power of your benediction is of not so weak a nature as to pass from the ring in four and twenty hours—it is like a sacred Chalice once consecrated and ever consecrate. I shall kiss your name and mine where your Lips have been—Lips! why should a poor prisoner as I am talk about such things? Thank God, though I hold them the dearest pleasures in the universe, I have a consolation independent of them in the certainty of your affection. I could write a song in the style of Tom Moore’s Pathetic about Memory if that would be any relief to me. No—’twould not. I will be as obstinate as a Robin, I will not sing in a cage. Health is my expected heaven and you are the Houri——this word I believe is both singular and plural—if only plural, never mind—you are a thousand of them.
Ever yours affectionately my dearest,