June 13, 1840. I got back from Watertown, whither I went to a gathering at Miss Hale’s (whose family are boarding at the Nonantum). I spent the night at W. A. W.’s. Lovely indeed it was with its fair moon and stars and floating cloud mist. I walked back with M. W. on my arm, and not only did my body go back, but my spirit also over the footsteps of other years. Were not the nights _then_ as lovely ... and the river that we gazed down into--think you those water-parties are so soon forgotten? When we got to the house we sat upon the steps and talked,-- And then like a Spring-swollen river Roll the full waves of her tumultuous thought, Crested with glittering spray; Her wild lips curve and quiver, And my rapt soul on the deep stream upcaught, Lulled by a dreamful music ever, Unwittingly is borne away. * * * * * I float to a delicious land, By a sunset Heaven spanned, And musical with streams. Around, the calm majestic forms And Godlike eyes of early Greece I see, Or listen till my spirit warms To songs of courtly chivalry, Or weep, unmindful if my tears be seen, For the meek suffering love of poor Undine. She is truly a glorious girl with her spirit eyes. On the mantel is a moss rose she gave me and which when it withers I shall enshrine in my Homer. This morning I drove her up to Waltham. They tell me I shall be in love with her. But there is but one _Love_. I love her because she is a woman, and so was another being I loved. August 18, 1840. Since you heard from me I have been at Nantasket and had a fine time. I found M. W., her brother, and Page,[24] down there, and I carried Heath with me. I had one glorious ride on the beach with M. W., I having hired a horse and gig at Hingham. Hingham is a strange place. I walked through the greater part of it one day and did not even see a living soul.... Nantasket is a beautiful place. The beach is five miles long, smooth, hard sand without a pebble. When the wind blows on shore you may see one line of unbroken white foam, five miles long, roll up the beach at once. I spent one whole evening alone on the rocks with M. W. A glorious evening it was. Page’s portrait of M. W. is going to be fine, at least I hope so. It _ought_ to be....