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A LETTER. |
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A LETTER. A letter—0, a letter !
All beautiful and bright, With my own name traced upon it,
Now greets my anxious sight. It is a priceless treasure—
Who does not know its worth ? To me it seemeth richer
Than all the gems of earth.
A letter—O, a letter!
I press it to my heart— For aught the world could give me
I would not with it part! Within its sacred foldings
A precious treasure lies, Which makes the fount of feeling .
E'en now o'erflow my eyes.
A letter—0, a letter!
"Tis from an absent friend— The sacred words within it
By his own hand were penn'd. • I think, while gazing on it,
That I am rich indeed— But let me drop my pencil,
And break the seal, and read.
June, 1843. |
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