Boston, Decr. 5th, 1839—5 P.M.
Dearest wife,
I do wish that you would evince the power of your spirit over its outward manifestations1, in some other way than by raising an inflammation over your eye. Do, belovedest, work another miracle forthwith, and cause this mountain—for I fancy it as of really mountainous bulk—cause it to be cast into the sea, or anywhere else; so that both eyes may greet your husband, when he comes home. Otherwise, I know not but my eyes will have an inflammation too;—they certainly smarted in a very unwonted manner, last evening. "The naughty swelling2!" as my Dove (or Sophie Hawthorne) said of the swollen3 cheek that afflicted4 me last summer. Will kisses have any efficacy? No; I am afraid not, for if they were medicinal, my Dove's eyelids5 have been so imbued6 with them that no ill would have come there. Nevertheless, though not a preventive, a kiss may 106 chance to be a remedy. Can Sophie Hawthorne be prevailed upon to let me try it?
I went to see my wife's (and of course my own) sister Mary, on Tuesday evening. She appeared very well; and we had a great deal of good talk, wherein my Dove was not utterly7 forgotten—(now will Sophie Hawthorne, thinking the Dove slighted, pout8 her lip at that expression)—well then, my Dove was directly or indirectly9 concerned in all my thoughts, and most of my words. Mrs. Park was not there, being gone, I believe, to some lecture. Mary and your husband talked with the utmost hopefulness and faith of my Dove's future health and well-being10. Dearest, you are well (all but the naughty swelling) and you always will be well. I love Mary because she loves you so much;—our affections meet in you, and so we become kindred. But everybody loves my Dove—everybody that knows her—and those that know her not love her also, though unconsciously, whenever they image to themselves something sweeter, and tenderer, and nobler, than they can meet with on earth. It is the likeness11 of my Dove that has haunted the dreams of poets, ever since the world began. Happy me, to whom that dream has become the reality of all realities—whose bosom12 has been warmed, and is forever 107 warmed, with the close embrace of her who has flitted shadowlike away from all other mortals! Dearest, I wish your husband had the gift of making rhymes; for methinks there is poetry in his head and heart, since he has been in love with you. You are a Poem, my Dove. Of what sort, then? Epic13?—Mercy on me,—no! A sonnet14?—no; for that is too labored15 and artificial. My Dove is a sort of sweet, simple, gay, pathetic ballad16, which Nature is singing, sometimes with tears, sometimes with smiles, and sometimes with intermingled smiles and tears.
I was invited to dine at Mr. Bancroft's yesterday with Miss Margaret Fuller; but Providence17 had given me some business to do; for which I was very thankful. When my Dove and Sophie Hawthorne can go with me, I shall not be afraid to accept invitations to meet literary lions and lionesses, because then I shall put the above-said redoubtable18 little personage in the front of the battle. What do you think, Dearest, of the expediency19 of my making a caucus20 speech? A great many people are very desirous of listening to your husband's eloquence21; and that is considered the best method of making my debut22. Now, probably, will Sophie Hawthorne utterly refuse to be kissed, unless I give up all notion of speechifying 108 at a caucus. Silly little Sophie!—I would not do it, even if thou thyself besought23 it of me.
Belovedest, I wish, before declining your ticket to Mr. Emerson's lectures, that I had asked whether you wished me to attend them; for if you do, I should have more pleasure in going, than if the wish were originally my own.
Dearest wife, nobody can come within the circle of my loneliness, save you;—you are my only companion in the world;—at least, when I compare other intercourse24 with our intimate communion, it seems as [if] other people were the world's width asunder25. And yet I love all the world better for my Dove's sake.
Good bye, belovedest. Drive away that "naughty swelling."
Your Ownest Husband.
Do not expect me till seven o'clock on Saturday—as I shall not leave Boston till sunset.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody,
Care of Dr. N. Peabody,
Salem, Mass.
点击收听单词发音
1 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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2 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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3 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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4 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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6 imbued | |
v.使(某人/某事)充满或激起(感情等)( imbue的过去式和过去分词 );使充满;灌输;激发(强烈感情或品质等) | |
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7 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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8 pout | |
v.撅嘴;绷脸;n.撅嘴;生气,不高兴 | |
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9 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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10 well-being | |
n.安康,安乐,幸福 | |
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11 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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12 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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13 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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14 sonnet | |
n.十四行诗 | |
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15 labored | |
adj.吃力的,谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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16 ballad | |
n.歌谣,民谣,流行爱情歌曲 | |
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17 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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18 redoubtable | |
adj.可敬的;可怕的 | |
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19 expediency | |
n.适宜;方便;合算;利己 | |
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20 caucus | |
n.秘密会议;干部会议;v.(参加)干部开会议 | |
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21 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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22 debut | |
n.首次演出,初次露面 | |
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23 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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24 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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25 asunder | |
adj.分离的,化为碎片 | |
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