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letter to t w higginson, 25 april 1862 - julie harris lyrics

mr higginson

your kindness claimed earlier gratitude*but i was ill*and write today, from my pillow

thank you for the surgery* it was not so painful as i supposed. i bring you others*as you ask*though they might not differ*

while my thought is undressed*i can make the distinction, but when i put them in the gown * they look alike, and numb

you asked how old i was? i made no verse*but one or two*until this winter * sir*

i had a terror*since september*i could tell to none*and so i sing, as the boy does by the burying ground*because i am afraid* you inquire my books*for poets*i have keats*and mr and mrs browning. for prose * mr ruskin * sir thomas browne * and the revelations. i went to school*but in your manner of the phrase*had no education. when a little girl, i had a friend, who taught me im* mortality*but venturing too near, himself*he never returned*soon after, my tutor, died * and for several years, my lexicon * was my only companion*then i found one more*but he was not contented i be his scholar*so he left the land

you ask of my companions hills* sir*and the sundown*and a dog*large as myself, that my father bought me*they are better than beings*because they know*but do not tell*and the noise in the pool, at noon * excels my piano. i have a brother and sister * my mother does not care for thought*and father, too busy with his briefs * to notice what we do * he buys me many books * but begs me not to rcad thcm*because he fears they joggle the mind. they are religious*except me*and address an eclipse, every morning*whom they call their “father.” but i fear my story fatigues you*i would like to learn*could you tell me how to grow*or is it unconveyed* like melody*or witchcraft?

you speak of mr whitman*i never read his book*but was told that he was disgraceful*

i read miss prcscott’s “circumstance,” but it followed me, in the dark*so i avoided her*

two editors of journals came to my father’s house, this winter* and asked me for my mind*and when i asked them “why,” they said i was penurious * and they, would use it for the world *

i could not weigh myself*myself*

my size felt small* to me* i read your chapters in the atlantic* and experienced honor for you*i was sure you would not reject a confiding question*

is this* sir*what you asked me to tell you?
your friend
e * d*ckinson

- julie harris lyrics

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