[Boston—Sunday, 7 February 1869]

Sunday Feb. 7th. Passed the morning at home with baby but found time for a letter to Laura giving the gist of Emerson’s lecture yesterday as well as I could.

The weather is cool but gorgeous & we are reading of Europe and many wonders.

Last night when I went to bed with “Orion Low in the West.” I felt a poem stirring somewhere within me which I said perhaps tomorrow’s sun will show but the day has been too full of duties for me to hear it.

Will the faculty die because the days pass thus? God knows best.

Dear Dickens’s birthday.

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