Emily Dickinson - Letter 275 (mid-November 1862) Samuel Bowles lyrics

Dear friend. Had We the Art like You - to endow so many, by just recovering our Health, 'twould give us tender pride - nor could we keep the news - but carry it to you - who seem to us own it most. So few that live - have life - it seems of quick importance - not one of those - escape by d**h. And since you gave us Fear - Congratulate us - for Ourselves - you give us safer - Peace. How extraordinary that Life's large Population contain so few of power to us - and those - a vivid species - who leave no mode - like Tyrian Dye. Remembering those Minorities - permit our gratitude for you - We ask that you be cautious - for many sakes - excelling Our's. To recapitulate the Stars - were useless as supreme. Yourself is Your's - dear friend - but ceded - is it not - to here and there a minor Life? Do not defraud These - for Gold - may be bought - and Purple - may be bought - but the sale of the Spirit - never did occur. Do not yet work - No Public so exorbitant of Any - as it's Friend - and we can wait your Health. Besides - there is an idleness - more Tonic than Toil - The loss by Sickness - was it loss - Or that Etherial Gain - You earned by measuring the Grave - Then - measuring the Sun - Be sure, dear friend, for Want - you have Estates of Lives. Emily.