Letter from Edward Thomas to the poet Gordon Bottomley. Sent from Elses Farm, The Weald, Kent. Archival ref: 424/1/1/1/10/16
Elses Farm
The Weald
Sevenoaks

26.vi.07

My dear Gordon,

What is the use of writing to
you - though being written to is
good - when I have wished for hardly
anything in some of the calm evenings
here except you and a spirit and
'somer is icomen in'? So you see
that we like the place. I have had
terrible moods here & long fits of despair
exhaustion, but the short intervals have
been very sweet, tho as I say, I
wanted something even then. But your
last letter is dated a month ago & I
must write something especially as I
know you will give me something back.
I have killed my man. One
day last week I sat down & vowed I would
Not rise till he was dead, & so it fell out, but
it is a bad death. Whenever I have to deal
with facts & incidents I begin to sprawl or
else to be very plain & blunt. Well, as
I approached the death, I got nervous & simply
said that I killed him (Philaster his name is)
& then, in spite of my plans. I only gave
about 5 lines to a description of the
skeleton. And after all I don't know that
I will let John Baillie have it. I feel as if
I would never try to write again. There is
no form that suits me, & I doubt if I can
make a new form. At any rate, I must
avoid long things. Perhaps the 'man
& a landscape' plan has a feature for me.
It is really my physical weakness that
spoils my work. I can't work more than
a small page at a time: then I am
interrupted for a week: am so I wander
& sprawl.
Since I came home, I have been very

busy with reviews. The 'World' has asked me
for signed articles 3 weeks running, on
very poor books, & that means much writing
& little said. I wonder will they let me have
'The Gate of Suraragdus', & why is it so
delayed?
Now I have to go to meet Haynes
& I think I will send this as it is rather than
wait & make you wait.
Helen & the children, who are well
& happy, send love to you all. So do I -
Ever yours
Edward Thomas