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Transcribers

  1. 66524454 - Preacher357
  2. 67021954 - not-logged-in-c270701d3f39b0de4a99
  3. 67325385 - claireschmieder
  4. WINNER - 67405034 - not-logged-in-9550bd1d342b63726e05
  5. 67791091 - leoncino5
  6. 68056639 - _secunda

66524454 - Preacher357

[24-8-51] Blackheath Monday Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your letter which persuade me that I
should, after all, accept and of the jobs, if I get a
chance. One source of misgiving to me was how you
would feel living in Leeds or Birminham but I see you
would prefer it to a precarious existance here - and I
am sure you are right. I love you and do wish to live
with you all the time. When I read your letters the
sun was very bright and I wrote the following poem: do
read this one as it should express my allegiance to
'reality' better than its spce in prose could:

Sunlight ricochetting silently
Off objects, wounds the darkness
Willing to snooze in rooms, in heads:

WIndows star at the volleys,
Walls are changed; burly shadows
Fall from hills and die in valleys.

Phoebus shoots - not arrows now -
But Dawn's a comely Westerner.

I see myself as a Mallarme in Leeds or Birmingham, correct

externally, and inwardly outrageous and dedicated to you,

my Muse.

I will write again soon but I do not feel like writing
more at the moment.

Paul sent his love.

I love you,
Lawrence

67021954 - not-logged-in-c270701d3f39b0de4a99

Blackheath
Monday
Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your letters which persuade me that I should, after all, accept any of the jobs, if I get a chance. One source of misgiving to me was how you would feel living in Leeds or Birmingham but I see you would prefer it to a precarious existance here - and I am sure you are right. I love you and do wish to live with you all the time. When I read your letters the sun was very bright and I wrote the following poem: do read this one as It should express my allegiance to 'reality' better than its space in prose could:
Sunlight ricochetting silently
Off objects, wounds the darkness
Willing to snooze in rooms, in heads:

Windows star at the volleys,
Walls are changed; burly shadows
Fall free hills and die in valleys.

Phoebus shoots - not arrows now -
But Dawn's a comely Westerner.

I see myself as a Mallarme in Leeds or Birmingham, correct externally, and inwardly outrageous and dedicated to you, my Muse.
I will write again soon but I do not feel like writing more at the moment.
Paul sent his love.
I love you,

67325385 - claireschmieder

[24-8-51]
Blackheath
Monday
Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your letters which persuade me that I
should, after all, accept any of the jobs, if I get a
chance. One source of misgiving to me was how you
would feel living in Leeds or Birmingham but I see you
would prefer it to a precarious existence here - and I
am sure you are right. I love you and do wish to live
with you all the time. When I read your letters the
sun was very bright and I wrote the following poem: do
read this one as It should express my allegiance to
'reality' better than its space in prose could:

Sunlight ricocheting silently
Off objects, would the darkness
Willing to snooze in rooms, in heads:

Windows star at the volleys,
Walls are changed; burly shadows
Fall from hills and die in valleys.

Phoebus shoots - not arrows now -
But Dawn's a comely Westerner.

I see myself as a Mallarme in Leeds or Birmingham, correct
externally, and inwardly outrageous and dedicated to you,
my Muse.

I will write again soon but I do not fell like writing
more at the moment.

Paul sent his love.

I love you,
Lawrence

WINNER - 67405034 - not-logged-in-9550bd1d342b63726e05

[24-8-51]
Blackheath
Monday
Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for you letters which persuade me that I should, after all, accept any of the jobs, if I get a chance. One source of misgiving to me was how you would feel living in Leeds or Birmingham but I see you would prefer it to a precarious existence here - and I am sure you are right. I love you and do wish to live with you all the time. When I read your letters the sun was very bright and I wrote the following poem: do read this one as It should express my allegiance to 'reality' better than its space in prose could:

Sunlight ricocheting silently
Off objects, wounds the darkness
Willing to snooze in rooms, in heads:

Windows star at the volleys,
Walls are changed; burly shadows
Fall from hills and die in valleys.

Phoebus shoots - not arrows now -
But Dawn's a comely Westerner.

I see myself as a Mallarme in Leeds or Birmingham, correct externally, and inwardly outrageous and dedicated to you, my Muse.

I will write again soon but I do not feel like writing more at the moment.

Paul sent his love.
I love you,
Lawrence

67791091 - leoncino5

Blackheath
Monday
Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your letters which persuade me that I should, after all, accept any of the jobs, if I get a chance. One source of misgiving to me was how you would fell living in London or Birmingham but I seee you would prefer it to a precarious exestance here - and I am sure you are right. I love you and do wish to live with you all the time. when I read your letters the sun was very bright ans I wrote the following poem: do read this one as It Should express my allogiance to 'reality' better than it's space in prose could:
Sunlight ricochetting silently
Off object, wounds the darkness
Willing to snooze in rooms, in heads:
Windows star at the volleys,
Walls are changed; burly shadows
Fall from hills and die in valleys.
Phoebus shoots - not arrows now -
But Dawn's a comely Westerner.
I see myself as Mallarm'e in Leeds or Birmingham, correct externally, and inwardly outrageous and dedicated to you, my Muse.
I will write again soon but i do not feel like writing more a the moment
Paul sent his love.
I love you,

68056639 - _secunda

[24-8-51]

Blackheath
Monday

Dearest Sylvia,
Thank you for your letters which persuade me that I should, after all, accept any of the jobs, if I get a chance. One source of misgiving to me was how you would feel living in Leeds or Birmingham but I see you would prefer it to a precarious existence here--and I am sure you are right. I love you and do wish to live with you all the time. When I read your letters the sun was very bright and I wrote the following poem: do read this one as It should express my allegiance to 'reality' better than its space in prose could:

Sunlight ricocheting silently
Off objects, wounds in the darkness
WIlling to snooze in rooms, in heads:

Windows star at the volleys,
Walls are changed: burly shadows
Fall from hills and die in valleys.

Phoebus shoots--not arrows now--
But Dawn's a comely Westerner.

I see myself as a Mallarme in Leeds or Birmingham, correct externally, and inwardly outrageous and dedicated to you, my Muse.

I will write again soon but I do not feel like writing more at the moment.

Paul sent his love.

I love you,
Lawrence

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