I wish you'd write me anything of your doings abroad or other news. I am likely to be back in about a fortnight more I suppose but I shouldn't wonder if it stretched to three weeks. The changes in my studio at Chelsea under Webb's directions, giving me a good light at last, will be completed next week. You might go and take a look at them if you liked. I have been doing a replica here (of that Beatrice)—a beastly job, but lucre was the lure—also a little picture of Janey with background of this place and river, made to fit a lovely old Italian frame I have. I have written a few things—notably Part I (51 five-line stanzas) of a poem called “Rose Mary” (you may remember my using the name long ago for some rubbish destroyed) and which is about a magic crystal or Beryl as it was called—a story of my own, good, I think, turning of course on the innocence required in the seer. Part 2 will be much longer I think, and should hope to get on with it now, were it not that Top comes here tonight from Iceland, and will bring a storm of talk with him.

On one short thing I have done, not meant to be a trifle, I want your advice about the close. I copy it herewith, and the form of the four last lines there given is the one I incline to adopt—thus you see leaving the whole question open. But at first I had meant to answer the question in a way, on the theory hardly of annihilation but of absorption. As thus (last five lines)—

As I say, I incline to the lines given in the copy as the safest course. Those above seem too to have a possible suggestion of a personal Deity, though of course this is not meant. Does the parrot brought me by Stillman talk?

P.S. I'm Dark-Blued at last, owing to Brown who was asked to illustrate something of mine for them if I would contribute. It's a little sort of ballad I wrote here—to appear in October.