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My original poems are all (or all of the best) in an aboriginal state, being
beginnings, though some of them very long beginnings, and not one, I think,
fairly copied. Moreover, I am always hoping to finish those I like, and know
they would have no chance if shown to you unfinished, as I am sure they would
not please you in that state,and then I should feel disgusted with them. This is
the sheer truth. Of short pieces I have seldom
page: [4]
or never done anything tolerable,
except perhaps sonnets, but if I can find any which I think in
any sense legible I will send them with the translations. I wish if
you
wr[?]te
write anything you care to show, you would reciprocate, as you
may be sure I care to see. As a grand instalment I send you the Mac
Crac sonnet: it hangs over him as yet like the sword of Damocles.
I dare say you remember Tennyson's sonnet “The Kraken
it is in the M.S. book of mine you have by you,—so compare.
You'll find it very close to the original—as well as to fact.
I'll add my last sonnet, made 2 days ago—though at the
risk of seeming trivial after the stern reality of the above.
- As when two men have loved a woman well,
- Each hating each; and all in all, deceit,
- Since not for either, this straight marriage sheet
- And the long pauses of this wedding-bell;
- But o'er her grave, the night & day dispel
- At last their feud forlorn, with cold & heat;
- Nor other than dear friends, to death may fleet
- The two lives left which most of her can tell:—
- So separate hopes, that in a soul had wood
-
10 The one same Peace, strove with each other long:
- And Peace before their faces perished since:
- So from that soul, in mindful brotherhood,
- (When silence may not be) sometimes they throng
- Through high-streets & at many dusty inns.
But my sonnets are not generally finished till I see them again after
forgetting them, & this is only 2 days old.
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