Yesterday we took the boys for a trip to long Island to visit a friend. We went in the afternoon and came back at night. The dear boys had a fine swim in the salt water and then we rode home. It was a pleasure to see how cheerful they kept in spite or being so tired that they could hardly stay awake. Billie especially was most toughtrul and gallant. All this speaks wonders for the training they have received from Mr. and Mrs. Watkins and makes us feel safer in leaving the boys with them this winter. They boys love the Watkins too, which is much.

Today Florence has taken the boys to Monroe for over Labor Day. This leaves me home alone here. I tell you I feel very lonesome, especially now that I have just seen the boys long enough to know how lovely they are. But such is a doctor's life. Almost every other doctor in Rutherford is away so I am doing work for all. It is amusing but tiresome. Never mind, my time is coming soon I hope.

I shall tell Mrs. Bloecher what you say or her as soon as I see her. I am very glad you round her a congenial neighbor. I shouldn't have let her know about the cottage if I had thought you wouldn't like her.

I don't know what rose busn you mean when you ask me to bring the climbing rose up that is next to the fence on the Clanny's side or the yard. I looked but I didn't see any small climbing rose bush. I saw a great big climbing rose bush but or course you didn't mean that. When I come up with the kids I'll bring a bush from myown yard that I have been saving for you since last year.

My book that has been published in France by Pound has arrived at last. It is beautifully done and seems to be about the best work I have done yet. The ones who should know best in England and France seem to believe it to be one or the most important pieces or writing that has ever come from the U.S. Who knows? In any case it doesn't affect me much. I like to write and I hope I shall be able to write well. That is all I care. Yet, naturally, one likes to have ones friends say pleasant things. I only have one or two copies of the book so far but as soon as I get some more you shall have one. This book is in prose, my first in prose.

Bob McAlmon is bringing out a new book of poems for me, also in Paris. I am doing some prose interpretations of the Spanish explorers in America. I have just finished de Soto. He was an intrepid man - and a tragic one. I'll show you the essay when it is printed.

Thus you see I keep busy. I am always very happy to get your letters and I always read them with the greatest interest and even with admiration for what you often express so well. Florence too reads your letters and has often told me that she is often greatly interested in #........................# the way you interpret your emotions, so well said. Write me, I shall always answer you promptly - even if from time to time I have to stretch that word a little because I have so many other things to do.

[Nov. 1923]

Dearest Mother :

Here I am settled in a room in New York in
order to work out my destiny. It seems likely that I shall
stay here three months instead of two. We are very
comfortable and quiet. I have all the time I want at last
in which to write poetry and to think.

There is a bed here for you any time you come
in and want to spend the night. I can't invite you for
longer than the night since we live so cramped up that one
more person for more than a night would embarrass us. But
I count on taking you to the theater or opera soon when you
simply must remain here that night.

There is a poem inclosed which I hope you will
like better than some of my incomprehensible latter work.
I think you will like the one I am sending. It seems that
this is the sort of thing I am going to do. Art is a
curious command. We must do what we are hidden to do and
we can only do so far as the light permits. I am always
earnest, so you if any one knows must know, but no doubt
I puzzle even you - as I do my elf.

Oh but leisure is the great thing. The time
to devote yourself to a thing, no matter what it may be -
and of course - quiet.

But I count on this year bringing good not only
to myself but to others around me. Now I have time to think
and to lay plans. I count heavily on a happier time for all
of us from now on.

Anyhow, I hope you like my poem. The last
time I saw you you looked well. It has made me happy.

Plenty of love from

Your son

Monday

Dearest Mother:

Yesterday we all went up to see Mrs. Herman, it was beautiful in the country, the farm is full of fruit. As school does not open until the twenty second Billy stayed up there but Paul came back with us. He may go up with Ed to his farm next week. The boys get along much better together now that they are older but its good for them not to see too much of each other, they think much more of each other when they do meet.

Mr. Barr came in to see me a few days ago. He and his wife and two little boys will be there on the ninteenth for two weeks. I explained how things were there so he understands perfectly. He says he will put up the new stoves for you as he used to be in the plumbing business but I told him it would not be necessary. I tell you this just to show you his attitude. He's a nice fellow - tall as a bean pole, his children are nice too.

Yes, I hope you can stay there till October 1st. I don't quite see how you can manage it alone if Nan goes but you will have to write me what to expect. I'll come for you when you are ready. The weather is fine again today for the holiday.

Yes, I understand perfectly what you mean when you say it pains you to be a nonentity. But, Mother, I think you exaggerate quite a lot. Everyone must let others do things for them as they get older. There are many things that people are glad to give up many times and it does not by any means mean that they are nonentities because they cannot do what was possible for them formerly. You are not able to take care of the grosser details and arrangements of your life because of physical weakness. Very well then, your life must take on a different character. It must be more a life of contemplation and memory. It can't be different. It must be so for all of us. It is in a sense the natural and truly religious turn of all life, the life of older people. I always enjoy your comments on things, I like to hear the Spanish proverbs you give me, I read the clippings you send me and enjoy them and show them to Florence. Then that means you are not by any means a nonentity.

I know your summers for the past two years have been complicated by certain necessary evils and I see very clearly what# you see. But nothing has really been taken out of your hands, you are as much mistress of your property as ever and all you have to do is to say what you will or will not have and you will have just that. It is only that some things, due to your physical disability, are impossible for you.

Well, the whole country is upset this year. And I see that the French have given Mayor Walker the ribbon of the Legion of Honor. It's a funny world. But as long as I can keep one toe wiggling I hope to enjoy my little share of it.

Lots of love from us all. Y our son

Willie

[14 Sept 1931]

P.S. I know you are always interested in my writing. Last week I spent an afternoon working over my next book of poetry with Louis Zukofsky (who always asks after you, by the way). He was an instructor in English at Wisconsin University last year. I say this to tell you that he is an English teacher. There are many points he can help me in especially since he is one of the very few who really live on modern poetry - in the esthetic sense. He loves it, practices it, reads it more than anyone I know and carefully studies it. Besides which he is my friend.

Well, we went over my work line by line, almost word by word looking for weak places and strengthening them or cutting them out. It was a wonderfully friendly thing for him to do most men would be too absorbed in their own ego to want to bother with another. But jealousy can only be smothered by a true interest in a science or an art. When both work together passionately, not for themselves but for a common end, then the world has arrived somewhere.

Of course Louis and I agree in the main on what we are doing so that almost everything he suggested seemed welcome to me. And I must give myself a little credit for there are not so very poets! who would be willing to have someone else correct their work. Ha ha!

I am planning to have my book all in order in another month and then send it to an agent who will look for a publisher for me.

In addition we are planning to gather a book of criticism by many writers centering on Ezra Pound's new Cantos - a long poem in the general mould of Dante's Cantos. This book will gather everything that has been written about Pound's work in the past ten years. It is to be called, _Homage to Pound_. It will be published in Paris.

Then there will be another book, a new anthology or collection of modern verse. Zukofsky is collecting that. It also will be published in Paris this winter.

[ Sept. 20, 1931 ]

Sunday

Dearest Mother:

Many thanks for your birthday greetings. But you
make a mistake in calling yourself "useless". Who isn't
useless? We all are as far as philosophy has been able to find
out and the world would be a far lovelier place without us.
But we are none of us useless as long as we use whatever gifts
or opportunities rate has given us to work with. And age and
some misfortune are true opportunities if we know how to use
them. It has always seemed to me that the chief beauty of
age is resignation. If our old could teach us that, so that
we could look with some mildness at our situation in the world
heaven knows we should all be the richer for it. What good
is this straining after fame and position in the world?
Surely it means nothing to me. But excellence in the details
of our lives from hour to hour is the only life with any
worth in it and a quite mind is the one thing conducive to
that. The old have lesser opportunities for physical
exercise than the young - and a good thing sometimes tho' I
know it isn't often pleasant - but for all that they can show
the way by the attitude toward rate which they take.

How's that for a Sunday morning sermon? It's the
first and maybe the last I'll ever preach. But I mean it
just the same and have always thought it - since I was eight
years old and knew I should grow old ( if I lived ) some
day.

I'm glad you round an opportunity to stay on at
the shore. It may turn out to be the finest time of the year
there during the next few days. In fact, if you want to,
why don't you keep Mrs. Barr there for two weeks or even
more. Well, that's for the weather to decide. But let me
know in time what your decision is.

I think you will like the Barrs. Mrs. Barr is not
so very strong but he is a great fellow - a curious fellow
but very willing to take things as they come and the boys are
nice kids I have round.

Not much new here. The boys are still out of school
but will start on Wednesday or next week. Oh, and here is
that prescription: I am so, sorry to have forgotten it.

Love from

Your son

August 11, 1937

Dear Mother:

Ed will bring the dress up with him this weekend when he returns to the farm. I put the purple sweater-vest with it thinking you might need it.

On Sunday the boys are going to the place where we hope to enjoy our vacation. We do not want to travel on Sunday so we'll follow them the next day. We'll be gone until the first of September.

It's lovely that Edith could read the book for you. If her voice holds out she probably will find an opportunity to read other things. I simply cannot go to New York to look for the binocular which Dr. Glassgo spoke of. In fact I do not believe it will help very much. We'll have to let that go until after Labor Day. Meanwhile your eyes may improve a little up there under the favorable conditions of air and sunlight.

As far as being rull or joy and happiness, that would be rather difficult under the circumstances of your poor vision and advancing age. You'll have to relieve, like the rest of the world, on those resources which are commonly designated as religious but which have to do with a man's or woman's basic character. If you look for the best in others you'll usually end by finding it in yourself. If you look for the impossible you'll find nothing. You are especially fortunate in having a number of people around you who are willing to look after your wants. You should be so grateful for these things that you show it in easy courtesy. You'll be surprised at the effect it will have. I don't mean exaggerated gestures or thanks. I do mean simple openness and graciousness. Do it yourself if you expect it from others - It's all in the mind. When a man's mind accepts and is willing to face the future, no matter how bleak it may be, with a generous realizatio or what others also have to bear - everybody is made happier. The old who do not and should not have the daily responsibilities should be examples for the rest of us in how to accept with graciousness whatever is left for us. If you continually tell yourself how unhappy you are, you'll be jsut that way. But if you discover how extremely fortunate you are as compared with many others you'll start finding out things that will change the whole character of your existence. Maybe you won't like this but in your oldest son can't talk to you straight from the shoulder nobody can. As unhappy as you may be think of others around you who are not lying on any bed of roses and show them an easy, open and contented mind. You don't always do it.

Mrs. "Pussy" Clark is in the hospital with what looks like pneumonia. But she'll get well. She's as tough as a horse.

Love and I'll write again soon.

August 15, 1937

Dear Mother:

Ed has handed you the dress by now. There is another
copy of Dourrier des Etats Unis here which I will mail to you
tomorrow. After that you will get a card from me from Stone
Harbor where we are going. The boys left this morning but we are
not leaving until Monday because of the crowds on the road. I
hope we like the place when we see it. Our address at Stone Harbor
will be 153 - 84th St ( The Bull Cottage ). It sounds like a
metropilis.

On Friday we took some friends to Jones Beach, a sort
of modern motorists' Coney Island. It is really a park, part of
the New York State Park System - forty miles out of the city on
what was formerly just a waste of sand five miles from the main-
land on the southern shore of Long Island. Without modern cars
the place wouldn't be worth 5 cents an acre. They have built a
"board-walk" a mile long with a bathing pavilion at each end and
an entrance court in the middle. There is nothing else within
miles of the place but creeks and swampland. It is an isolated
development along a broad sandy shore.

The result as far as we were concerned was comical. We
left here at 130 by car. It took us two hours and a half to make
the fifty mile trip from home so that it was four o'clock when
we arrived. Then it took us half an hour to find the boys who had
preceeded us. Then we had to walk half a mile to a bath house. So
that by the time we got into the water it was going on toward
five o'clock. And as one of the party had to come late it was six
o'clock before we were united and half past six or more before we
could eat supper. As a matter of fact we didn't get to eat
supper till half past seven because we had to wait for the boys
to finish a miniature golf game. We were in the water about half
an hour. And I had walked miles and miles by the time the day
was over.

In general though the place is beautifully run. The
attendants are courteous and everything is immoderately clean but
the distances are too great. The architect should have been
tied out there by a chain for a month before they allowed him to
even consider the plan. It should have been made up in smaller
units - scattered but more intimate. I imagine though that when a
really big Sunday or Holiday crowd comes there the big units make
it easier to handle them.

On the way home after dark we saw the illuminated front of
the administration building for the World's Fair which Ed and his
friends had designed.

2

We couldn't see much of it because there was a lot of scaffolding around it but what we could see looked interesting.

I hope you profited by the long "lecture" I gave you the other day. Maybe you didn't even know what I was talking about. Such is life. But anyhow I never mean to hurt you, only to tell you how I believe you can sometimes get more out of your surroundings than you seem to do. A person in your position who has many serious handicaps is inclined to become too self centered, inevitably so, and to forget that they are not after all unique in the world. Even that may not be true in your case for I know you well enough to know that you wish no one any harm - but even you, in your necessarily restricted world, can do little subtle favors to others if no more than in the tone of the voice and courteous consideration. I'm sure you know what I mean.

We're going to try to get a rest. Floss needs it even more than I. She has been greatly worried by her mother's condition during the past two years. Many things are involved which no one can understand unless he is in them and has to face them. Our great hope is that the Monroe property can be sold within a year or two at the outside. For the moment things are in a bad mess.

I hope you are enjoying the change. There's nothing like a change to enliven the spirit. Give my love to the family and the same to you. You'll be getting a grad from me pretty soon.

Your son

August 20, 1937

Dearest Mother:

This is as black as I can write, I hope you will be able to read it even if it gives you trouble enough. Your letter came yesterday. It shows you to be what I believe of you, a coura geous person if a moody one for I fully realize the difficulties you are braving and what your temperamental obstacles are as well as the purely physical ones. It isn't easy and if, at times, I lecture you I do so because I know you would want me to, because I always feel that you welcome anything that appeals to the intelligence - even though you might possibly be afraid of it at first - not wanting to be hurt. And not, my God!# that I always use my intell- igence - though I mean to always.

By your writing I see that the eyes are giving you great difficulty. It is wonderful that you do as well as you do. But you must accustom yourself to the fact that they are going to get worse - for a while. This is going to be very hard. Nobody can say how long it will take before you are unable to write or to read but in some ways, the sooner the better. When that time comes you will have to rely more and more on your hearing, which# is also affected I know, using the radio as much as possible for news and entertain- ment. And we all shall have to help you more and more. It might even be wise to employ some young girl to come in every day and ## read to you. We'll find someone with a pleasant voice.

Finally, we'll have to consider the question of an operation for the cataracts. I know you are against it, I've heard you say you'll never permit it. But that is ### only because the idea of the thing terrifies you. It isn't as bad as it seems. I have heard many people who have gone through it say it is nothing. You may choose your own surgeon. We'll talk it over when the time comes. But let's forget all that now. I had to speak of it because of your last letter but that's enough for the moment.

This is a very wonderful place for a vacation at the sea-shore. It is situated fifteen miles from the southernmost tip of Ne w Jersey on what amounts virtually a sand-bar six miles out to sea. There isn't a tree on the island, nothing but low but very luxuriant bar-berry bushes which look very much like box-wood they are so small leaved and so billowy. They fill every open lot so that the small summer houses stand out of them as from a deep green sea. The streets here are laid out like a small city, as you may imagine from our living on 84th St. But that's only a joke. As# a matter of fact there are sometimes not more than two or three houses on a lot so that the place really looks like a big field with a house sticking up here and there in every direction.

We are in a double house at one end of the town, at 84th St and at the other end of the town, 110th St there is a big Nunnery where some unknown order of Sisters come to spend two weeks vacation every year. They go bathing too, in old fashioned gowns

2

reaching to their ankles - though not in every case. Some of the
sisters are daring and have gown reaching only to their knees - or
a little below. This is funny today when girls# wear their one
piece suits tight up into the crotch and even fat old ladies go
about in the most amazing negligee. Not that I object but it is
really funny when these girls and women, with their menfolks# in
trunks reaching just below the belly-button stand in line to see
the poor nuns ## go into the water. It is one of the sights of
the beach.

As I say, we have half a double house two blocks from the
water. It is a regular house such as you might see in Rutherford
and quite comfortable though the beds might be improved on. Floss
does the cooking and we try to help her with the chores as best
we can. The weather has been magnificent with a strong and cool
breeze blowing night and day whereas the beech is a blaze of sun-
light and of pure white sand as far as the eye can see north and
south.

This is not an amusement place but they have kept it
exclusive and primitive. We dress as we please and everyone else
does the same. A boardwalk but not a very elegant one runs from
one end of the town to the other and at night the couples walk
on it and watch the sea birds running into the surf and back again
with each wave. Floss and I walked there last night for an hour.
It stretches a mile so that to go from one end to the other and
back again is quite a little jaunt.

But the principal thing here is the beach. Everyone
goes to the beach and most of us go morning and evening. But the
sun is so hot that unless one is careful one's hide will be ##
blistered in no time. I've been fairly singed so far and hope to
avoid blisters but you never can tell. Yesterday I walked alone
from the bathing beach to the point, barefoot along the sand. It
is a good two miles to the end of the island so that you can see
I got plenty of exercise. Not a person was about except one lone
fisherman casting into the surf who complained because the porpois-
es had come in so close to the surf that the small fish had been
frightened away.

Dr. and Mrs. Liefield are here with their small son
and there are one or two others from Rutherford whom we see from
time to time. A Mrs. Bull, who is the one who # really got us to
come here has as a guest a Russian "princess" ( according to
Mrs. Bull ). Anyway this young woman is very charming and very, very
attractive. She has been all over the world since the Revolution
in which her father was killed - she being no more than a child at
the time. She speaks every known language and at one time danced
at the FolliesBergere in Paris. You can imagine, ## how attractive
she is to the boys, especially Paul! Those two do nothing but
dance. They both love it. He is teaching her the latest American
steps while she is teaching him the Russian ballet! They go far
down the beach to practice. More of this another time. I want
to go swimming. Keep up your courage, dear Mother, and have
faith. I love you and will always be there to help you when you
need it most.

Your son,

Willie

August 31, 1937

Dearest Mother:

We returned yesterday after two weeks of the shore and though we miss the lazy days lying about the sand and running into the surf now and then for relaxation and amusement we are glad to have our comforts about us once more. Next to having nothing to do and freedom to roam, home is best.

The boys remained at Stone Harbor. We were glad to have them do so and they were delighted to be able to continue their run. It won't be long now before they will have to work hard enough for their livings so that I am glad to let them get all they want of freedom now - so far as I can afford it. Paul expects to swim in the races on Labor Day and Bill is doing a little study preparatory to his second year's work. They love the place and are, of course, as brown as mulattos.

For the next few days we shall be straightening out our affairs, seeing what we can do to help Mrs. Herman sell her property - if possible - and so forth. After that we plan to spend a day or two with Charles Sheeler and then I shall fetch you home. It may be that I can get up there after we leave the Sheelers but if that proves impracticable I'll run up there the following Friday - unless one of the boys can do it or Ed wants to bring you down here. The only thing I really would like to see the family up there and to look the place over once more. It is so hard for me to get away once I get started at my practice.

I'll write to Ed sooner or later and try to get him on the phone here some evening this week.

In any case, so far so good. I'll be seeing you soon and then we'll race the coming winter as usual. It seems funny that summer is drawing to a close though I realize that some of the best days of the year come iron now on.

Oh yes! The bill for the installation of the electricity between house and street came yesterday. It is much less than anticipated, twenty five dollars. It can be paid when you return. No hurry.

Love to the family and I hope you have not annoyed each other too unbearably during these hot weeks! In fact I sincerely hope you've had a fine rest and that you have enjoyed getting reacquainted with the young ladies and they with you.

Much love, from

July 6, 1944

Dearest Mother :

With very nearly perfect weather it is very pleasant in the old cottage, I think of you every day and wish only that it might be possible for you to spend a week or two here but I can see that that would be impossible now. We have a comfortable bed with a new mattress, there is linoleum on the floor, curtains to the windows and Bill and Eleanor did a good job cleaning the place up before we arrived. The same old ice-box is here, for which Bill brings is 20 cents worth of ice every two days. The gas range still has a broken door held closed by the same stick I made for it five years ago.

One special feature you have not seen, it is a mural painting done by a young artist who lived here all last summer. It occupies the side of the wall just above where you bed used to stand. It is fantastic - indescribable, looking out to sea but quite interesting. We have got used to it now though at first you just had to keep looking at it whether you wanted to or no. But now all we look at is the sea, the boats, the sun and the moon. There are sea-gulls flying over the little bay before the house every day, diving headlong for fish from morning to night.

As I told you Kenneth is spending his summer at camp in Vermont this year. It is the same camp our boys went to, a very well organized one and will do him a world of good, it will also give Bill and Eleanor a chance to get a much needed rest for when the boy is here in summer he is a constant worry to them - being normally disobedient and inclined to wander off and not return until he gets ready to do so. Eleanor has already had a cars from the boy saying the camp is all right and that he is enjoying himself. He had two chickens here of which he was very fond, carrying them in his arms down to the beach when he felt like it and running every morning to look for eggs. They were just beginning to lay when he left. Now we get two eggs every day. It always gave the boys a big thrill when he could bring home an egg. Now he writes that they have put him in charge of the chickens at camp and he is as happy as he can be.

But it was quite an adventure to get the boy on the train the day he left, July 1st. He was to meet a group of other boys coming from New York City but when Bill and Eleanor got to the station they found the train packed to the doors. They couldn't find the boys. Kenny was to meet so that at the last minute they had to shove him not into the train, the car was too packed for that, but onto the platform of the train, right among the crowd and let him go alone. It seemed a risky thing to do but there was no help for it. A soldier standing with the others said he would look out for the boy and put him off at the proper station and that's just what he did. Quite an adventure. There was a terrible crowd travelling that day and it was unbearably hot on the road. Floss said it was pathetic to see the

little fellow all dressed up in his best clothes, with a box of
lunch under his arm going off alone into the world for the first
time in his life. Bill said when he saw the crowd# on the train he
got pale. But when Eleanor hesitated about letting him go he just
looked at her and said, Give me my ticket! He acted
like a little man. Floss said you wouldn't believe how small he
looked. But he went and got there all right. I called to the
camp that same night toward evening. The camp director, Mr. Gore
answered the phone and said Kenney was fine, had had a wonderful
trip under the care of the soldier who got off with him, looked
around for the camp authorities and gave him directly into their
care. Quite an adventure.

Meanwhile I had taken the train a day earlier to go to
a different part of Vermont to give my reading to the young women
at Bennington College. I too had a hard trip as the trains and
busses were crowded everywhere and at times I had to stand. By the
way, Kenny had to stand up all the way - as far as we know.

My talk and reading went off even better than I expected,
I suppose. I'm getting more confidence with greater experience. The
faculty of the college entertained me, about ten or fifteen of them
including the president. They too seem pleased with what I had to
say. At least they didn't throw any tomatoes and said they'd be
delighted to have me again. One of them, who knows I know a little
Spanish, asked me if I would not translate one or two short plays
from Cervantes for them to act at the college. He says that the
short one act plays of Cervantes are little known but that they are
very actable and very good. I may try to do one next winter. He says
they are hard to find even in the original Spanish.

So here we are, wath my marvellous vacation almost half
over, or quite half over. I can't tell you how wonderful I find it.
I work a little around the place as Pop used to do, swim when it is
high tide, eat and sleep; Floss is relaxing also and though she has
to cook the meals she still has time to relax and swim a little.
We'll be home again a week from Sunday. I hope the hot weather isn't
tiring you too much and that you are fairly comfortable. The war goes
on, what a terrible catastrophe it is seems emphasized by all this
peace by the sea shore and simple lovliness. Man is a stupid creature
no doubt of it but a fated one who has not yet learned to master his
own poor destiny.

Remember me to Mrs & Mrs. Taylor and Peggy, they too
would enjoy this quiet life by the sea.

Love from your son

April 27, 1918

Dearest Mother :-

I have been looking over Pound's work - all he has ever written - for he has asked me to make a selection from all he has ever done, to be published in a single volume. His complete works to date are already published in a small series. Your letter coming at a time when I am working over Pound's things has a peculiar value to me.

The three kinds of love are wonderfully described by you and it is the first kind, the primitive, the furious kind that Pound shows most strongly - and that I show least, by the way. It is that mysterious, mystic attraction of one person for another that Pound celebrates best. It is this in his work that has made it brilliant. But as that sort of love is the hottest, the most brilliant, it is also the soonest gone and woe to the man who has nothing to take its place.

When love goes, men and women commit suicide, they rush off into desperate adventures - that is when they are at an end of their wits, when they have tasted the best in life they are capable of and are too brave too true to turn to a life that is empty. For some people, for some men and women suicide is the only outlet - I for one honor them. And Pound, now that his first fire is burnt out, where is he to turn? He has nothing of the second kind of love, - or is his love for me that sort of a fire? He does not know how to give himself up to the democracy of love that would ring him happiness - the third kind of love you speak of. As a result Pound is in a desperate fix from which who shall save him.

In our family the daring love of passion seems never quite to open its petals.