Well, after reading your letter, so full of feverish impatience, I felt in my heart all the freshness of my celestial wakings, when I love the air about me and all nature, and fancy that I am destined to die for one I love.

One of your poems, "The Maiden's Song," paints these delicious moments, when gaiety is tender, when aspiration is a need; it is one of my favorites.

Do you want me to put all my flatteries into one ?--well then, I think you worthy to be _me_! Your letter, though short, enables me to read within you.

Yes, I have guessed your tumultuous struggles, your piqued curiosity, your projects; but I do not yet know you well enough to satisfy your wishes.

Hear me, dear; the mystery in which I am shrouded allows me to use that word, which lets you see to the bottom of my heart.