“When the flowers was a-springing & a-trilling & a-bunting.” What a description I wish I kept a journal earlier who will publish it when finish’d I don’t know. Like there is so much of Essex. And how I think every day of fern. There. The nightingale is good the nightingale is bad. But “the flowers was a-springing” is beautiful. Went to Milton his loose traces returned from Milton the hoeing he was famous for. What a day this used to be, every wet day. Mondays nothing without fish. Look & speech. Went to Milton for felt. Found thee there reading, leaving. All in the June. All in the speaks of rain.