Against the World

Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red rose-leaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing. I cannot tell you the compassion I have felt for all your sufferings for. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way.  I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become.
 But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defenses. And I don’t really resent it.


I am not making myself clear I am afraid, but on the occasions when my heart has spoken privately with me about this my heart  was in no condition to make itself clear either and I am just doing the best I can in my own way.


For a long time I’ve been wanting to write to you that I will soon be describing in “A Defeat,” the kind when the world is ours. I wanted to bring you my conqueror’s joy and lay it at your feet and then, tired out by all the shouting, I always simply went to bed. Today I’m doing it to feel the pleasure you don’t yet know, of turning abruptly from friendship to love, from strength to tenderness. I love you in a way that you have not known in me. I am neither worn down by travels nor wrapped up in the desire for your presence. my love for you is pure  and turning it inwards as a constituent element of myself. This happens much more often than I admit to you, but seldom when I’m writing to you. Try to understand me: I love you.
I already love in you your soul your heart, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever previous – your heat, your soul. Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour and cease to love it as speedily; but the soul one must learn to know. If you love me, reassure yourself; and call all your strength and presence of mind to your aid. No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives. There is nothing that I will not brave for your sake; you deserve much more than that. But I more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. Think of me, sometimes, when the ocean divide us, –but they never will, unless you wish it. Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour, even love, the most beautiful and natural of feelings.



Your Beauty grows upon me and I feel
A greater love through all my essence steal.’

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