If I could only reach out from this page
and hold thee in mine arms like lovers should,
like those star-cross'd lovers from past-gone Age,
from Shakespeare's Verona, why then I would ⎯
I would, I would hold thee like Orpheus
on saving his one love in hell ensnared,
but, ay me! 'tis false hope and of no use
and all but just a dream a fool has dared.
But if thou would think of me when thou read
and gently touch this page as if 'twas me,
if thou would only do this simple deed
do this for then thy touch would set me free.
For better is thy touch however small
if just mine page than have no touch at all.