Tuesday Morning.
July 22, 1845.
I will say, with your leave, Thursday (nor attempt to say anything else without your leave).
The temptation of reading the ‘Essay’ was more than I could bear: and a wonderful work it is every way; the other poems and their music – – wonderful!
And you go out still – – so continue better!
I cannot write this morning – – I should say too much and have to be sorry and afraid – – let me be safely yours ever, my own dear friend – –
R.B.
I am but too proud of your praise – – when will the blame come – – at Malta?
