To Lord Alfred Douglas, C.1891

My own dear boy - Your sonnet is quite lovely and it is a marvel that those red roseleaf lips of yours should be made no less for the music of song than for the madness of kissin. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know that Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days. Why are you alone in London, and when do you go to Salisbury? Do go there and cool your hands in the grey twilight of gothic things, and come here whenever you like. It is a lovely place; it only lacks you, but to Salisbury first. Always with undying love.

Yours,

Oscar

OSCAR WILDE (1854-1900)