But life is dangerous and delicate. I
should like to see your solid England. The map of Britain is
good reading for me. Then I have a very ignorant love of
pictures, and a curiosity about the Greek statues and stumps in
the British Museum. So beware of me, for on that distant day
when I get ready I shall come.
Long before this time you ought to have received from John
Chapman a copy of Emerson's Poems, so called, which he was
directed to send you. Poor man, you need not open them. I know
all you can say. I printed them, not because I was deceived into
a belief that they were poems, but because of the softness or
hardness of heart of many friends here who have made it a point
to have them circulated.* Once having set out to print, I obeyed
the solicitations of John Chapman, of an ill-omened street in
London, to send him the book in manuscript, for the better
securing of copyright. In printing them here I have corrected
the most unpardonable negligences, which negligences must be all
stereotyped under his fair London covers and gilt paper to the
eyes of any curious London reader; from which recollection I
strive to turn away.
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