Produced by Eric Eldred Charles Bidwell Charles Franksand the Online Distributed Proofreading TeamLITERARY LOVELETTERSAND OTHER STORIESbyROBERT HERRICKTOG H PLITERARY LOVELETTERSA MODERN ACCOUNTNO I INTRODUCTORY AND EXPLANATORY_Eastlake has renewed an episode of his past life The formalities havebeen satisfied at a chance meeting and he continues_ So your carnations lie over there a bit beyond this page in aconfusion of manuscripts Sweet source of this idle letter and gentlememento of the house on Grant Street and of you I fancy I catch theirodor before it escapes generously into the vague darkness beyond mywindow They whisper Be tender be frank recall to her mind what isprecious in the past For departed delights are rosy with deceitful hopesand a womans heart becomes heavy with living We are the woman you onceknew but we are much more We have learned new secrets new emotions newambitions in lovewe are fuller than before Sofor tomorrow theywill be shrivelled and lifelessI take up their message tonightI see you now as this afternoon at the Goodriches when you came intriumphantly to essay that hot room of empty passive folk Someone wassinging somewhere and we were staring at one another There you stood atthe door placing us the roses scattered in plutocratic profusion haddrooped their heads to our hot faces We turned from the music to _you_You knew it and you were glad of it You knew that they were busy aboutyou that you and your amiable hostess made an effective group at the headof the room You scented their possible disapproval with zest for you hadso often mocked their goodwill with impunity that you were serenelyconfident of getting what you wanted Did you want a lover Not that Imean to offer myself in flesh and blood God forbid that I should join theimploring procession even at a respectful distance My pen is at yourservice I prefer to be your historian your literary maidhalf slavehalf confidant for then you will always welcome me If I were a lover Imight some day be inopportune That would not be pleasantYes they were chattering about you especially around the table wheresome solid ladies of Chicago served iced drinks I was sipping it all inwith the punch and looking at the pinks above the dark hair andwondering if you found having your own way as good fun as when you wereeighteen You have gained my dear lady while I have been knocking aboutthe world You are now more than sweet you are almost handsome Isuppose it is a question of lights and the time of day whether or not youare really brilliant And you carry surety in your face There is nothingin Chicago to startle you perhaps not in the worldShe at the punch remarked casually to her of the sherbet I wonder whenMiss Armstrong will settle matters with Lane It is the best she can donow though he isnt as well worth while as the men she threw over Andher neighbor replied She might do worse than Lane She could get morefrom him than the showy ones So Lane is the name of the day They havegauged you and put you down at Lane I took an ice and waitedbut youwill have to supply the detailsMeantime you sailed on with that same everlasting enthusiasm upon yourface that I knew six years ago until you spied me How extremely naturalyou made your greeting I confess I believed that I had lived for thatsmile six years and suffered a bad noise for the sound of your voice Itseemed but a minute until we found ourselves almost alone with the solidwomen at the ices One swift phrase from you and we had slipped backthrough the meaningless years till we stood _there_ in the parlor at GrantStreet mere boy and girl The babbling room vanished for a few goldenmoments Then you rustled off and I believe I told Mrs Goodrich thatmusicales were very nice for they gave you a chance to talk And I wentto the dressingroom wondering what rare chance had brought me againwithin the bondage of that voiceThen then dear pinks you came sailing over the stairs peeping out fromthat bunch of lace I loitered and spoke Were the eyes green or blue orgray ambition or love or indifference to the world I was at my oldpuzzle again while you unfastened the pinks and before the butler whoacquiesced at your frivolity in impertinent silence you held them out tome Only you know the preciousness of unsoughtfor favors Write me yousaid and I writeWhat should man write about to you but of love and yourself My pen Isee has not lost its personal gait in running over the mill booksPerhaps it politely anticipates what is expected So much the better sayfor you expect what all men givelove and devotion You would not knowa man who could not love you Your little world is a circle ofpossibilities Let me explain Each lover is a possible conception of lifeplaced at a slightly different angle from his predecessor or successorWithin this circle you have turned and turned until your head is a bitweary But I stand outside and observe the whirligig Shall I be drawn inNo for I should become only a conventional interest If the salt etcI remember you once taught in a mission schoolThe flowers will tell me no more Next time give me a rosea hugehybrid opulent rose the product of a dozen forcing processesandI will love you a new way As the flowers say goodby I will saygoodnight Shall I burn them No for they would smoulder And if I leftthem here alone tomorrow they would be wan There I have thrown themout wide into that gulf of a street twelve stories below They willflutter down in the smoky darkness and fall like a message from the landof the lotuseaters upon a prosy wayfarer And safe in my heart therelives that gracious picture of my lady as she stands above me and givesthem to me That is eternal you and the pinks are but