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The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I

Thursday

page 132
Thursday

“Pas de lettre encore. Rien que le journal.”

“Merci, Juliette.”

Well, that often happens on this day. Perhaps I'll get 2 to-morrow. It may be those bloody raids which I see have been on again. I feel ever so much better again to-day and hungry. I should like to have a chicken en casserole and a salad and good coffee. It's a bit windy to-day, so I'll take the air behind a screen of my daffodils and not rush forth. Do you remember, or have I mentioned lately, that poem of Shelley's, The Question? It begins:

I dreamed that as I wandered by the way
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring….

I have learned it by heart since I am here; it is very exquisite, I think. Shelley and Keats I get more and more attached to. Nay, to all ‘poetry.’ I have such a passion for it, and I feel such an understanding of it. It's a great part of my life….

April! April!