Letters by Keats

My dearest lady,

I am now at a very pleasan cottage window

looking onto a beautiful hilly country

with a view of the sea

the morning is very fine

I don't know how elastic my spirit might be

what pleasure I might have in living here

if the remenbrance of you did not weigh so upon me

Ask yourself, my love, whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me

so destoryed my freedom

for myself, I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form

I want a brighter word than bright, a faireer word than fair

I almost wish we were butterflies

and lived but three summer days

Three such days with you I could fill with more delight

than 50 common years could ever contain

when you can confess this in a letter

you must write immediately 

and do all you can to console me in it

make it rich as a draft of poppies

to intoxicate me

write the softest words and kiss them

That I may at least touch my lips where yours have been