My sweet creature, when I send this round, I shall be in the front parlor
Watching to see you show yourself for a minute in the garden
When I look back upon the ecstasies in which I have passed some days
And the miseries in their turn
I wonder the more at the beauty which has kept up the spell so fervently
How horrid was the chance of slipping into the ground instead of into your arms
The different is amazing, love