O my letters! Thy breath that all seems so plain and white,
and yet looks all so fierce and stunning,
against my tremulous hands
tied to this pen's bestowing string.
And let them drop down on me to-night.
This said,- he longs to have me in his sight, once,
as a friend, as lovely as the fiendish flower spring;
as simple as a far summer fling.
The latter said,- 'I love thee', and I buried my head
straight in a quivering, yet awesome delight!
The last said,- 'I am thine', and so, its ink never pales
in my heart
that altogether beats too fast!