Woods and wooded Islands here and there--at the same time in the distance among Mountains of another aspect we see Bassenthwaite--I 〈shall〉 drop like a Hawk on the Post Office at Carlisle 〈page torn〉 some Letters from you and Tom.
Sweet sweet is the greeting of eyes,
And sweet is the voice in its greeting,
When Adieux have grown old and goodbyes
Fade away where old time is retreating--
Warm the nerve of a welcoming hand
And earnest a Kiss on the Brow,
When we meet over sea and o'er Land
Where furrows are new to the Plough.
This is all 〈torn〉 in the m 〈torn〉 please a 〈torn〉 Letters as possi〈ble.〉 We will before many Years are over have written many folio volumes which as a Matter of self- defence to one whom you understand intends to be immortal in the best points and let all his Sins and peccadillos die away--I mean to say that the Booksellers will rather decline printing ten folio volumes of Correspondence printed as close as the Apostles creed in a Watch paper--I have been looking out my dear Georgy for a joke or a Pun for you--there is none but the Names of romantic Misses on the Inn window Panes. You will of course have given me directions brother George where to direct on the other side of the Water. I have not had time to write to Henry--for I have a journal to keep for Tom nearly enough to employ all my leisure--I am a day behind hand with him--I scarcely know how I shall manage Fanny and two or three others I have promised--We expect to be in Scotland in at most three days so you must if this should catch you before you set sail give me a line to Port-Patrick.
God bless you my dear Brother and Sister.
Address: Mr Thomas Keats Hampstead.
Postmark: not recorded.
Keswick, June 29
My dear Tom,
I cannot make my journal as distinct and actual as I____________________