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    Elizabeth Barrett Browning - My Letters

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    poetictouch

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    Elizabeth Barrett Browning - My Letters - Read by Laural Merlington

    My Letters
    Sonnet 28
    by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

    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 to-night.
    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!