THE LETTER.
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Her chaplet circling with the rays, Of God's own beams of light,Thy brow, that crowned with fadeless bays, Before Him shineth bright.
THE LETTER.
Oh! white winged dove, thou hast flown, From out of the shadowy west,To bring me a message of love, And here on my heart shalt thou rest.For my darling's hand hath touched, Thy pages again and again,And perhaps her lips have pressed, Lightly her dear one's name.
I will fly to her now and clasp, Her close in a lover's embrace,And rain sweet kisses on brow and cheek, And hide her blushing face,Close down on my true, true heart, That shall never know a change,For my love is unlike all other, And will not choose to range.
