My dear Bailey;

　　I was in hopes some little time back to be able to relieve your dullness by my spirits—to point out things in the world worth your enjoyment—and now I am never alone without rejoicing that there is such a thing as death –without placing my ultimate in the glory of dying for a great human purpose Perhaps if my affairs were in a different state I should not have not written the above—you shall judge—I have tow brothers one is driven by the ‘burden of Society’ to America, the other, with an exquisite love of Life, is in a lingering state—My love for my brothers from the early loss of our parents and even for earlier Misfortunes has grown into a affection ‘passing the Love of Women’—I have been ill-tempered with them. I have vexed them –but the thought of them has always stifled the impression that any woman might otherwise have made upon me—I have a sister too and may not follow them, either to America or to the Grave—Life must be undergone, and I certainly derive a consolation from the thought of writing one or two more Poems before it cesease.

　　Your affectionate friend

　　John Keats