My Letters! all dead paper. . . (So XXVIII)

        My letters! all dead paper, mute and we!

        Ahey seem alive and quivering

        Against my tremul

        Aonight.

        to

        Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring

        to e and toug,

        Yes I    for it—t. . .

        Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed

        As if Gods future t.

        ts ink has paled

        it my    t beat too fast.

        And thy words have ill availed

        If,    at last!
请记住本书首发域名：966xs.com。966小说手机版阅读网址：wap.966xs.com