XXVIII + 

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! + 

And yet they seem alive and quivering + 

Against my tremulous hands which loose the string + 

And let them drop down on my knee tonight. + 

This said, he wished to have me in his sight + 

Once, as a friend; this fixed a day in spring + 

To come and touch my hand⁠—a simple thing, + 

Yet I wept for it!⁠—this⁠—the paper’s light⁠— + 

Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed + 

As if God’s future thundered on my past. + 

This said I am thine⁠—and so its ink has paled + 

With lying at my heart that beat too fast; + 

And this⁠—O Love, thy words have ill availed, + 

If what this said I dared repeat at last! + 