Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/64
17, Woodville Street
12.viii '98
I send you heartsease. Have you ease of heart? Say yes! little one.

My dearest friend,
I had your letter first post this morning. It is true I was in bed- at 7.15am; still I got up soon, had a short wholesome walk before breakfast. And I felt perfectly well; my headache was gone; And though sleep here is unhealthy (in a soft, deep bed, with overmuch clothes), and leaves me dull and stupid, I soon shook that off, and now feel very well, after a couple of hours walking slowly in the field beside the river, the largest river here, the Loughor. So I am getting about a little more than usual just now. For last night I spent nearly two hours (up till 9.15) in the fields, chiefly in the twilight. I was with my married cousin - Thomas Thomas (not the one I live with), but though he is noisy & coarse, I was very content. In fact I was so content my thoughts were so numerous and so strange, that I dare not tell you; at such times I become essentially an animal in my feeling towards the earth, and it requires no effort to understand how the Greeks conceived
those diabolical forms-the Satyrs and Faries, half man half beast. I will not persue this further; to you with your happy, childish, innocent, & lovely "feeling for Nature", a description of my own would be revolting.
I am still as before, incapable of real thought. My days are full of result less reverie, -resultless for good, but perhaps full of harm. The only decent use I make of my Brain is when I am writing seriously and endeavouring to fix the right word for an object; & that is rare. The sooner I am away from here, the better; it makes work of a useful kind impossible. At home, they think I am enjoying myself thoroughly, & even propose my staying (don't cry or fret) till the the end of September, but I won't, never fear. I shall probably return on September 7, the day after Mother returns from Eastbourne; by that time, you will have left the Andrewses, I suppose.-Did it occur to you how ill mannered it was to leave just after a holiday (no holiday, bother) of two weeks? It was.
for Oxford, I am sending Justinian's Institutes, that is, Roman Law, an entirely new subject & of no interest; Plato's 'Apology of Socrates', which is the speech Socrates before his judges at Athens; Sophocles' play "Electra" ; and Livy's history, Book which deals with the 2nd Punic War, of which you probaly know something,-Hannibal, Scipio, Hanno, Hasdrubal. That is all; & I work barely. I read more carefully & at greater length in these books; Goethes' Travels in Italy, a lazy, but interesting account of his visit to Rome ,Naples Verona; Hegel's Philosophyof History, which probably means nothing to you by its title, & which I could not easily explain, while the book is moreover the hardest I ever attempted, & impossible to understand for the most part; Grote's "Greece" ; Carlyle's "Frederick" & "Schiller's Life"; now then some Shakespeare; (illegible) more rarely because I have now finished all he wrote except "Plato & Platonius" , shall probably (illegible) soon as I can.
I suppose now that Rene has lost my copy
the Speaker; if not, send it me or have it sent;
for they have been asking for it daily here. I gave
them the address, wrote it on the Speaker, and
told it to Mary - sieve-headed creature.
It is the only copy, too, confound!
I have been adding to my knowledge of flowers here, by
finding new ones such as "willowstrife" or "loosestrife", "ivyleaved bell flower" "woodbetony".
Today I found a lovely Heartsease,, some petals
of such glowing, deep purple, others of a glossy gold with lines and moles of purple on them; as gay as a garden pansy, but smaller and dearer, - much taller and drooping.
I found pimpernel, too. [Do you know that tiny, parched brick red flower, in the corn?]
I will jack this up now. You see I am all right, just jaded, dry, and somewhat irritable. I hope you are happy and well and comfortable at Holmwood. Kiss me there; I miss you, - your bosom, your life, your eyes. Ah me! Sweetheart, I do love you.
In life I am your truest fondest friend Edward, and you ever my own sweet little one, Helen, my anemone maiden.
Sweetheart, Goodbye. I am yours wholly.