gri_2003_m_46_b04_f04_022

Max. dissimilarity: 1.0
Mean dissimilarity: 0.365
Image votes: 0.0

Transcribers

66638463 - Preacher357
66846662 - Graceling1
66864750 - gailkoelker
WINNER - 67094036 - Vmargene
67389911 - not-logged-in-3b337588de5de856d952
67649888 - smurray38

66638463 - Preacher357

8 iv 1951 Blackheath Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your sweet letter which contained such good news
about Carol's portrait. Speaking of portraits I think the wind
blowing my trousers makes me look a little like a cowboy in Carol's
photograph but the top part is rather better. I am writing to
thank her for sending it, as you recommended.

Will you book on the coach that is coming on Satureday afternoon?
I have an N.G. lecture at 2:30, which will be over at 3:30: so I
can easily meet the bus at Lewisham. I long to see you. Hetty
has swooned with excitement now that a date is actually fixed.
I wish that I could come down to Pett today as M will not be there
but, alas, that cannot be. Yawolla has set off, just this minute,
hearing you were alone, but I don't suppose, even running, he'll
get there till tomorrow.

I am very pleased indeed about Flugel wanting an article from Clif-
ford. I shall congratulate him tomorrow.

Here are one or two poems for you, my dearest creature, my muse,
written in the feeling of excitement that we shall meet again soon.

IDEAL OF A HOLIDAY

A slow boat for the staging of a noh-play
Idling via the ottomans of sunset.
Islands delay the mantlepiece horizon.
I'd love to get you on a slow boat to China
Though there's nothing in China to equal you.
Wake slowly, retarded by the occident.
Slowly the wake uncoils, detumescently,
On water dark and tangled as an octupus.
The moon rolls like a tear along the sheets.
The sea is honey and the boat our spoon.

AGAINST PARADOXES
Should paradoxes on the lips
Of a lover - take myself,
(Who has loved except ourselves?)
Grow like roses out of season,
Like a mansion on an iceburg?
Does not the wit of images
Betray ambivalence?

But, my love, and only love,
Opposing images are idle
In the usage of our love.
Your roses do not tilt the season

66846662 - Graceling1

Blackheath 8 iv 1951
Dearest Sylvia,

Thank you for your sweet letter which contained such good news
about Carol's portrait. Speaking of portraits I think the wind
blowing my trousers makes me look a little like a cowboy in Carol's
photograph but the top part is rather better. I am writing to
thank her for sending it, as you recommended.

Will you book on the coach that is coming on Saturday afternoon?
I have an N.G. lecture at 2.30, which will be over at 3.30: so I
can easily meet the bus at lewisham. I long to see you. Hetty
has swooned with excitement now that a date is actually fixed.
I wish that I could come does to Pett today as M will not be there
but, alas, that cannot be. Yawolla has set off, just this minute,
hearing you were alone, but I don't suppose, even running, he'll
get there till tomorrow.

I am very pleased indeed about Flugel wanting an article from Clif-
ford. I shall congratulate him tomorrow.

Here are one or two poems for you, my dearest creator, my muse
written in the feeling of excitement that we shall meet again soon.

IDEAL OF A HOLIDAY

A slow boat for the taking of a noh-play
Idling via the ottomans of sunset.
Islands delay the mantelpiece horizon.
I'd love to get you on a slow boat to China
Though there's nothing on China to equal you.
Wake slowly, retarded by the occident.
Slowly the wake uncoils, detumescently,
On water dark and tangled as an octopus.
The moon rolls like a tear along the sheets.
The sea is honey and the boat our spoon.

AGAINST PARADOXES

Should paradoxes on the lips
Of a lover - take myself,
(Who has loved except ourselves?)
Grow like roses our of season,
Like a mansion on an iceberg?
Does not the wit of images
betray ambivalence?

But, my love, and only love,
Opposing images are idle
In the usage of our love.
Your roses do not tilt the season

66864750 - gailkoelker

Blackheath 8 iv 1951 Dearest Sylvia Thank you for your sweet letter which contained such good news about Carol's portrait. Speaking of portraits I think the wind blowing my trousers makes me look a little like a cowboy in Carol's photograph but the top part is rather better. I am writing to thank her for sending it, as you recommend. Will you book on the coach that is coming on Saturday afternoon? I have an N.G. lecture at 2.30, which will be over at 3.30: so I can easily meet the bus at Lewisham. I long to see you. Hetty has swooned with excitement now that a date is actually fixed. I wish that I could come down to Pett today as M will not be there but, alas, that cannot be. Yawolla has set off, just this minute, hearing you were alone, but I don't suppose, even running, he'll get there till tomorrow. I am very pleased indeed about Flugel wanting an article from Clifford. I shall congratulate him tomorrow. Here are one or two poems for you, my dearest creature, my muse, written in the feeling of excitement that we shall meet again soon. IDEAL OF A HOLIDAY A slow boat for the staging of a Idling via the ottomans of sunset. Islands delay the mantlepiece horizon. I'd love to get you on a slow boat to China Though there's nothing in China to equal you. Wake slowly, retarded by the . Slowly the wake uncoils, detumescently, On water dark and tangled as an octopus. The moon rolls like a tear along the sheets. The sea is honey and the boat our spoon. AGAINST PARADOXES Should paradoxes on the lips Of a lover - take myself, (Who has love except ourselves?) Grow like roses out of season, Like a mansion on an iceburg? Does not the wit of images Betray ambivalence? But, my love, and only love, Opposing images are idle In the usage of our love. Your roses do not tilt the season

WINNER - 67094036 - Vmargene

Blackheath 8. iv 1951
Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your sweet letter which contained such good news
about Carol's portrait. Speaking of portraits I think the wind
blowing my trousers makes me look a little like a cowboy in Carol's
photograph but the top part is rather better. I am writing to
thank her for sending it, as you recommended.

Will you book on the coach that is coming on Saturday afternoon?
I have an N. G. lecture at 2.30, which will be over at 3.30: so I
can easily meet the bus at Lewisham. I long to see you. Hetty
has swooned with excitement now that a date is actually fixed.
I wish that I could come down to Pett today as M will not be there
but, alas, that cannot be. Yawolla has set off, just this minute,
hearing you were alone, but I don't suppose, even running, he'll
get there till tomorrow.

I am very p,eased indeed about Flugel wanting an article from Clif-
ford. I shall congratulate him tomorrow.

Here are one or two poems for you, my dearest creature, my muse,
written in the feeling of excitement that we shall meet again soon.

IDEAL OF A HOLIDAY
A slow boat for the staging of a noh-play
Idling via the ottomans of sunset.
Islands delay the mantelpiece horizon.
I'd love to get you on a slow boat to China
Though there's nothing in China to equal you.
Wake slowly, retarded by the occident.
Slowly the wake uncoils, detumescently,
On water dark and tangled as an octopus.
The moon rolls like a tear along the sheets.
The sea is honey and the boat our spoon.

AGAINST PARADOXES
Should paradoxes on the lips
Of a lover - take myself,
(Who has loved except ourselves?)
Grow like roses out of season,
Like a mansion on an iceberg?
Does not the wit of images
Betray ambivalence?

But, my love, and only love,
Opposing images are idle
In the usage of our love.
Your roses do not tilt the season

67389911 - not-logged-in-3b337588de5de856d952

67649888 - smurray38

Blackheath 8 iv 1951

Dearest Sylvia,

Thank you for your sweet letter which contained such good news about Carol's portrait. Speaking of portraits I think the wind blowing my trousers makes me look a little like a cowboy in Carol's photograph but the top part is rather better. I am writing to thank her for sending it, as you recommended.

Will you book on the coach that is coming on Saturday afternoon? I have an N.G. lecture at 2.30, which will be over at 3.30: so I can easily meet the bus at Lewisham. I long to see you. Hetty has swooned with excitement now that a date is actually fixed. I wish that I could come down to Pett today as M will not be there but, alas, that cannot be. Yawolla has set off, just this minute, hearing you were alone, but I don't suppose, even running, he'll get there till tomorrow.

I am very pleased indeed about Flugel wanting an article from Clifford. I shall congratulate him tomorrow.

Here are one or two poems for you, my dearest creature, my muse, written in the feeling of excitement that we shall meet again soon.

IDEA OF A HOLIDAY
A slow boat for the staging of a noh-play
Idling via the ottomans of sunset.
Islands delay the mantelpiece horizon.
I'd love to get you on a slow boat to China
Though there's nothing in China to equal you.
Wake slowly, retarded by the occident.
Slowly the wake uncoils, detumescently,
On water dark and tangled as an octopus.
The moon rolls like a tear upon the sheets.
The sea is honey and the boat our spoon.

AGAINST PARADOXES
Should paradoxes on the lips
Of a lover - take myself,
(Who has loved except ourselves?)
Grow like roses out of season,
Like a mansion on an iceburg?
Does not the wit of images
Betray ambivalence?

But my love, and only love,
Opposing images are idle
In the usage of our love.
Your roses do not tilt the season

Previous document

Next document