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gri_2003_m_46_b05_f08_002

Transcribers

  1. 69413700 - jesseytucker
  2. WINNER - 69717157 - Scotssunflower
  3. 70821092 - akoconnor
  4. 71003580 - Arabicstar
  5. 71098143 - Eboo
  6. 71451081 - nahnah

69413700 - jesseytucker

[3-8-52]
Blackheath
Sunday
Dearest Sylvia,
Lion has been busy writing since breakfast. It is now 3.00
in the afternoon and I am going to post this letter on the way
to Wimbledon to visit my parents. I shall stay the night and
spend Monday with them, returning here tomorrow evening.
On Tuesday Anthony Hill is coming here as I mentioned Vic-
tor Pasmore has invited us both round to dinner in the evening
so that should be very pleasant I think.
Yesterday's lecture on Manet was very well-attended. About
70 people. I find Manet most interesting nowadays: I think
I was right about his drawing but he is still a fascinating art-
ist. I have done a lot of work on the Bar (more than I can put
into a letter without turning it into a lecture) so I shall save
it till I see you.
The weather here is thundery and sunny alternately. And at
Pett? I hope you are having a pleasant time with M and MMGG.
Did you have a nice time with the Savages on Friday? I'm sure
you did.
Here is a poem for you:

The clouds are waistcoats dressing up the sky,
Sweet labels on the curving blue bottle,
Tufts of a Christian angel's softest wing:
But being alone
Summer's a doublecross.

Rain in my face, slipping through air's net,
Each crystal oval happy with rebirth,
Dew on our morning, come on with the rain:
The winter with you
Has a summer charm.

The fact of you, of being there with you,
Remakes the winter, softs the balustrade
Of ice, and lacking you the summer is
A lock without your key,
A hidden sun.

And here follows a poem about art:

WINNER - 69717157 - Scotssunflower

[3-8-52]

Blackheath

Sunday

Dearest Sylvia,

Lion has been busy writing since Breakfast. It is now 3.00 in the afternoon and I am going to post this letter on the way to Wimbledon to visit my parents. I shall stay the night and spend monday with them, returning here tomorrow evening.

On Tuesday Anthony Hill is coming here as I mentioned. Victor Pasmore has invited us both round to dinner in the evening so that should be very pleasant I think.

Yesterday's lecture on Manet was very well-attended. About 70 people. I find Manet most interesting nowadays: I think I was right about his drawing but he is still a fascinating artist. I have done a lot of work on the Bar (more than I can put into a letter without turning it into a lecture) so I shall save it till I see you.

The weather here is thundery and sunny alternately. And at Pett? I hope you are having a pleasant time with M and MMGG. Did you have a nice time with the Savages on Friday? I'm sure you did.

Here is a poem for you:

The clouds are waistcoats dressing up the sky, Sweet labels on the curving blue bottle, Tufts of a christian angel's softest wing: But being alone Summer's a doublecross.

Rain in my face, slipping through air's net, Each crystal oval happy with rebirth, Dew on our mornings, come on with the rain: The winter with you Has a summer charm.

The fact of you, of being there with you, Remakes the winter, softs the balustrade Of ice, and lacking you the summer is A lock without your key A hidden sun.

And here follows a poem about art:

To witness the mutation of a fruit (The word our editor's the need our own) The ripeness on the round, he plants a pip, Lies down until he can sleep in the shade, Starves till the fruit bubbles on the green.

70821092 - akoconnor

[3 - 8 - 52]
Blackheath
Sunday
Dearest Sylvia,
Lion has been busy writing since breakfast. It is now 3.00
in the afternoon and I am going to post this letter on the way
to Wimbledon to visit my parents. I shall stay the night and
spend Monday with them, returning here tomorrow evening.
On Tuesday Anthony Hill is coming here as I mentioned. Vic-
tor Pasmore has invited us both round to dinner in the evening
so that should be very pleasant I think.
Yesterday's lecture on Manet was very well-attended. About
70 people. I find Manet most interesting nowadays: I think
I was right about his drawing but he is still a fascinating art-
ist. I have done a lot of work on the Bar (more than I can put
into a letter without turning it into a lecture) so I shall save
it till I see you.
The weather here is thundery and sunny alternately. And at
Pett? I hope you are having a pleasant time with M and MMGG.
Did you have a nice time with the Savages on Friday? I'm sure
you did.
Here is a poem for you:
The clouds are waistcoats dressing up the sky,
Sweet labels on the curving blue bottle,
Tufts of a christian angel's softest wing:
But being alone
Summer's a doublecross.
Rain in my face, slipping through air's net,
Each crystal oval happy with rebirth,
Dew on our mornings, come on with the rain:
The winter with you
Has a summer charm.
The fact of you, of being there with you,
Remakes the winter, softs the balustrade
Of ice, and lacking you the summer is
A lock without your key,
A hidden sun.
And here follows a poem about art:
To witness the mutation of a fruit
(The word our editor's, the need our own),
The ripeness on the round, he plants a pip,
Lies down until he can sleep in the shade,
Starves till the fruit bubbles on the green.

71003580 - Arabicstar

Blackheath

Sunday

Dearest Sylvia,
Lion has been busy writing since breakfast. It is now 3.00 in the afternoon and I am going to post this letter on the way to Wimbledon to visit my parents. I shall stay the night and spend Monday with them, returning tomorrow evening.

On Tuesday Anthony Hill is coming here as I mentioned. Victor Pasmore has invited us both round to dinner in the evening so that should be very pleasant I think.

Yesterday's lecture on Manet was well-attended. About 76 people. I find Manet most interesting nowadays: I think I was right about his drawing but he is still a fascinating artist. i have done a lot of work on the Bar (more than I can put into a letter without turning it into a lecture) so I shall save it till I see you.

The weather here is thundery and sunny alternately. And at Pett? I hope you are having a pleasant time with M and MMGG. Did you have a nice time with the Savages on Friday? I'm sure you did.

Here is a poem for you:

The clouds are waistcoats dressing up the sky,
Sweet labels on a curving blue bottle,
Tufts of christian angel's softest wing:
But being alone
Summer's a double cross.

Rain in my face, slipping through air's net,
Each crystal oval happy with rebirth,
Dew on our mornings, come on with the rain:
The winter with you
has a summer charm.
The fact of you, of being there with you,
Remakes the winter, softs the balustrade
Of ice, and lacking you the summer is
A lock with out your key,
A hidden sun.

And here follows a poem about art:

To witness the mutation of a fruit
(the word our editor's, the need our own),
The ripeness on the round, he plants a pip,
lies down until he can sleep in the shade,
Starves till the fruit bubbles in the green.

71098143 - Eboo

[3.8.52]
Blackheath
Sunday
Dearest Sylvia,
Lion has been busy writing since breakfast. It is now 3.00
in the afternoon and I am going to post this letter on the way
to Wimbledon to visit my parents. I shall stay the night and
spend Monday with them, returning here tomorrow evening.
On Tuesday Anthony Hill is coming here as I mentioned. Vic-
tor Pasmore has invited us both round to dinner in the evening
so that should be very pleasant I think.
Yesterday's lecture on Manet was very well-attended. About
70 people. I find Manet most interesting nowadays: I think
I was right about his drawing but he is still a fascinating art-
ist. I have done a lot of work on the Bar (more than I can put)
into a letter without turning it into a lecture) so I shall save
it till I see you.
The weather here is thundery and sunny alternately. And at
Pett? I hope you are having a pleasant time with M and MMGG.
Did you have a nice time with the Savages on Friday? I'm sure
you did.
Here is a poem for you:
The clouds are waistcoats dressing up the sky,
Sweet labels on the curving blue bottle,
Tufts of a Christian angel's softest wing:
But being alone
Summer's a doublecross.
Rain in my face, slipping through air's net,
Each crystal oval happy with rebirth,
Dew on our mornings, come on with the rain:
The winter with you
Has a summer charm.
The fact of you, of being there with you,
Remakes the winter, softs the balustrade
Of ice, and lacking you the summer is
A lock without your key
A hidden sun.
And here follows a poem about art:
To witness the mutation of a fruit
(The word our editor's, the need our own),
The ripeness on the round, he plants a pip,
Lies down until he can sleep in the shade,
Starves till the fruit bubbles on the green.

71451081 - nahnah

Blackheath
Sunday
Dearest Sylvia,
Lion has been busy writing since breakfast. It is now 3.00 in the afternoon and I am going to post this letter on the way to Wimbledon to visit my parents. I shall stay the night and spend Monday with them, returning here tomorrow evening.
On Tuesday Anthony Hill is coming here as I mentioned. Victor Pasmore has invited us both round to dinner in the evening so that should be very pleasant I think.
Yesterday's lecture on Manet was very well-attended. About 76 people. I find Manet most interesting nowadays: I think I was right about his drawing but he is still a fascinating artist. I have done a lot of work on the Bar (more than I can put into a letter without turning it into a lecture) so I shall save it till I see you.
The weather here is thundery and sunny alternately. And at Pett? I hope you are having a pleasant time with M and MMGG. Did you have a nice time with the Savages on Friday? I'm sure you did.

Here is a poem for you:

The clouds are waistcoats dressing up the sky,
Sweet labels on the curving blue bottle,
Tufts of a Christian angel's softest wing:
But being alone
Summer's a doublecross.

Rain in my face, slipping through air's net,
Each crystal oval happy with rebirth,
Dew on our mornings, come on with the rain:
The winter with you
Has a summer charm.

The fact of you, of being there with you,
Remakes the winter, softs the balustrade
Of ice, and lacking you the summer is
A lock without your key
A hidden sun.

And here follows a poem about art:

To witness the mutation of a fruit
(the word our editor's, the need our own),
the ripeness on the round, he plants a pip,
lies down until he can sleep in the shade,
Starves till the fruit bubbles on the green.

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