Oh, Dearest: I have danced and I have danced till I am tired! I

am dropping with sleep, but I must just touch you and say good-night.

This was our great day of publishing, dearest, ours: all the world

knows it; and all admire your choice! I was determined they should. I

have been collecting scalps for you to hang at your girdle. All thought

me beautiful: people who never did so before. I wanted to say to them,

"Am I not beautiful? I am, am I not?" And it was not for myself I was

asking this praise. Beloved, I was wearing the magic rose--what you gave

me when we parted: you saying, alas, that you were not to be there. But

you were! Its leaves have not dropped nor the scent of it faded. I

kiss you out of the heart of it. Good-night: come to me in my first

dream!




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