Letters by Keats My dearest lady, I am now at a very pleasan cottage window looking onto a beautiful hilly country with a view of the sea the morning is very fine I don't know how elastic my spirit might be what pleasure I might have in living here if the remenbrance of you did not weigh so upon me Ask yourself, my love, whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me so destoryed my freedom for myself, I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form I want a brighter word than bright, a faireer word than fair I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days Three such days with you I could fill with more delight than 50 common years could ever contain when you can confess this in a letter you must write immediately and do all you can to console me in it make it rich as a draft of poppies to intoxicate me write the softest words and kiss them That I may at least touch my lips where yours have been