  A letter, Lucy? for me to read? Ah, tell-tale blushes, what secret now? I am but teasing. There, never heed, Nor blur with furrows that little brow. II.Yes, as I thought. 'Tis the old, old tale: He loves you; dreams of you night and day; With hope he brightens, with dread turns pale,— Truths, dear sister, or babblings gray. III.Love lives forever, if heart-born, real; But fades like the roses I've now just clipped, When told by one who your peace would steal, Then flit to some blossom as honey-lipped. IV.To you each word here is truth's own mint: To me, once cheated, there's room for doubt; You, sister, could him give your love sans stint— What, tears and trembling? a dawning pout? woman reading letter with another woman resting hand on her shoulder V.Yes, as I thought. 'Tis the old, old tale: He loves you; dreams of you night and day; With hope he brightens, with dread turns pale,— Truths, dear sister, or babblings gray. VI.Well, darling, believe then, and cynic thought Shall fade away in your love's sweet sun. He is not worldly nor fashion-taught; I would not darken new light begun. VII.His words are manly; an honest ring Sounds in each sentence. Ah! Lucy, live Long in the love that can never wing, Whilst I—well, yes—I have yet to give. decoration |
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