“GOING to him! Happy letter! Tell him— | |
Tell him the page I did n’t write; | |
Tell him I only said the syntax, | |
And left the verb and the pronoun out. | |
Tell him just how the fingers hurried, | 5 |
Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow; | |
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages, | |
So you could see what moved them so. | |
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“Tell him it was n’t a practised writer, | |
You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled; | 10 |
You could hear the bodice tug, behind you, | |
As if it held but the might of a child; | |
You almost pitied it, you, it worked so. | |
Tell him—No, you may quibble there, | |
For it would split his heart to know it, | 15 |
And then you and I were silenter. | |
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“Tell him night finished before we finished, | |
And the old clock kept neighing ‘day!’ | |
And you got sleepy and begged to be ended— | |
What could it hinder so, to say? | 20 |
Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious, | |
But if he ask where you are hid | |
Until to-morrow,—happy letter! | |
Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!” | |