I have your letter over-sea. With dainty superscription writ The treasured missive came to me, Its brightness beaming more than wit; Its simplest phrase a witchery Of words, wherein yourself was hid. What wonder that I fondled it, And held it as I 've held your hand? Dear love, I know you 'll understand, Just as our fair First Mother did! The contents of the tender note— Well, really, I cannot recall The phrases as if learned by rote; And yet, ah yes, I know them all! They were almost too sweet to quote; So musical those magic words That, as I listen now, they fall In jeweled strands of golden song As wooing, cooing as a throng Of newly mated woodland birds. It may be no endearing thought Was pictured there in black and white; But, as I read the lines, I sought— Discovered, too, with keen delight— Some little waifs of heart-love, caught Like Cupid tangled in the net, That maidens dangle for the sprite. Your hand had penned the words; and so, Of course, sweetheart, I could but know That your caresses lingered yet. |