[12th December 1787]
I stretch a point indeed, my dearest Madam, when I answer your
card on the rack of my present agony.—Your friendship, Madam! By
Heavens, I was never proud before.— Your lines, I maintain it, are
Poetry; and good Poetry; mine, were indeed partly fiction, and
partly a friendship which had I been so blest as to have met with you
in time, might have led me—God of love only knows where—Time is
too short for ceremonies—I swear solemnly (in all the tenor of my
former oath) to remember you in all the pride and warmth of
friendship until—I cease to be!—
Tomorrow, and every day till I see you, you shall hear from me.—
Farewell! May you enjoy a better night’s repose than lam likely to
have.
Robt Burns
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