I came across this book at the library and was instantly hooked. It's a book of letters between a writer in New York and a London bookseller. Perfect on fall nights, with tea in hand.
"I require a book of love poems with spring coming on. No Keats or Shelley, send me poets who can make love without slobbering - Wyatt or Jonson or somebody, use your own judgement. Just a nice book preferably small enough to stick in a slacks pocket and take to Central Park." Helene Hanff