“I mourn this morning, Susie, that I have no sweet sunset to gild a page for you, nor any bay so blue – not even a little chamber way up in the sky, as yours is, to give me thoughts of heaven, which I would give to you. You know how I must write you, down, down, in the terrestrial – no sunset here, no stars; not even a bit of twilight which I may poetize – and send you!”
