Letter from Edward Thomas to the poet Gordon Bottomley. Sent from Elses Farm, The Weald, Kent. Archival ref: 424/1/1/1/10/56
THE WEALD NR SEVENOAKS
7.iv.06
My dear Gordon,
I am back now and all day long puzzling about my books. A letter is quite impossible, though I am still able to welcome and enjoy one from you and did this morning. I got brown in Devon and wiltshire, but whether I got anything else I don't yet know. My letter to you was almost certainly foolish as I soon thought and I shall not continue the subject. I was merely sorry for the moment about the prostitute because I thought the word came from this french 'mines' and not really from you. I hankered after a sow gelder instead - at the time.
About the MS which I send for you to add to don't make it much longer. All I want is for you to make it as clear as possible. What sort of country it is - what sort of shore - what sort of rock and soil predominates - what trees - the charade of the country in brief.
I didn't forget Platt. But I have looked in vain for the book and it alone is missing. Helen says I have lent it but I don't know to whom. It is rude of Blacks I wish now that I had asked myselfL it might have been better: but now it is too late.
'Loins, my dear!' Helen and I are thinking of a little governess, reading about your swimmer's loins, saying that, and we are laughing. I am stupic but I can't be sure whether the legend that follows in yours or not - it is good.
Can you understand my haste and excuse it? Goodbye with her love to you both. Ever yours Edward Thomas. If Rathbone has any more volumes of songs, I should like them