Do you know, almost all people love their mothers, but I have never met 
anybody in my life, I think, who loved his mother as much as I love you. 
I don’t believe there ever was anybody who did, quite so much, and quite
in so many wonderful ways. I was telling somebody yesterday that the 
reason I am a poet is entirely because you wanted me to be and intended 
I should be, even from the very first. You brought me up in the tradition
of poetry, and everything I did you encouraged. Some parents of children
that are “different” have so much to reproach themselves with. But not
you, Great Spirit.

If I didn’t keep calling you mother, anybody reading this would think I 
was writing to my sweetheart. And he would be quite right.

Well, dear, this is enough for now. I will write again soon.