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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341161" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tatiana's Letter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">FROM 'EUGENE ONIEGIN'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I write to you . . . when that is said <br>What more is left for me to say ? <br>Now you are free (I know too well) <br>To heap contempt upon my head. <br>Yet if some sparks of pity dwell <br>Within your breast you'll surely not <br>Abandon me to my hard lot. <br>When first I saw you I desired <br>To hold my peace : my shame ('tis true) <br>Would ne'er have been revealed to you <br>Had life's conditions but inspired <br>One gleam of hope that you would come <br>To see us in our country home <br>From time to time, so that I might <br>Hear but one word, catch but one tone, <br>And live by dreaming on alone <br>Till our next meeting, day and night. <br>But then it seemed there was no hope; <br>Our rustic quiet bored you so, <br>Folk said you were a misanthrope; <br>And we—we do not make a show— <br>You found us narrow in our scope. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why did you come to visit us <br>I n this forgotten quiet place ? <br>I need not have been tortured thus <br>If I had never seen your face. <br>My inexperienced heart maybe <br>Had grown resigned to this dull life, <br>And future years had brought to me <br>Some other love—my destiny <br>An honoured mother and true wife. <br>Another's! Nay, to none on earth <br>Could I have given this heart of mine. <br>By the decree of the Most High, <br>And by Heaven's willing, I am thine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Allotted unto you was I <br>E'en from the moment of my birth <br>And loyal to my future fate; <br>And God, I know, sent you to be <br>My champion and my advocate <br>Till the grave closes over me. . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft in my dreams you did appear;<br>I loved you then before the days<br>When palpably I saw you here ;<br>I languished in your wondrous gaze<br>And in my heart your voice rang clear<br>Long since. ... It was no dream to me!<br>You came—at once I understood<br>This swift confusion in my blood,<br>While my thoughts whispered : ' Lo, 'tis he.'<br>Was it not true ? Am I not sure<br>You spoke with me in hours of peace<br>When I went visiting my poor,<br>Or when I strove by prayer to ease<br>The pain in which my spirit toss'd ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Was not your image wont to rise <br>A vision sweet—too quickly lost— <br>To light my gloom ? Did not mine eyes <br>See you bend gently o'er my bed ? <br>Were not some words low whispered <br>Of love and hope ? Now in what guise <br>Come you ? As guardian angel good, <br>Or tempter in some wily mood ? <br>0 speak, and set my doubts at rest! <br>What if all this should prove at best <br>The empty dream, more light than froth, <br>Of a heart simple and untried ? <br>Well, be it so! But from henceforth<br>I must to you my fate confide. <br>Must weep my tears about your feet <br>And for your sheltering love entreat. <br>Picture me now. ... I sit alone <br>With none to heed or guess what ails . . . <br>And now my very reason fails! <br>I wait for you. One glance of yours <br>Fresh hope unto my heart restores; <br>Or else the cruel dream comes back <br>Of merited contempt. . . . Alack! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">[She seals the letter.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis done! I scarce dare read it through, <br>But overcome with shame and fright <br>I trust my honour now to you, <br>And dare to think I trust aright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alexander+Sergeyevich+Pushkin">Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341161" data-title="Tatiana's Letter de Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin" data-description="FROM 'EUGENE ONIEGIN'

I write to you . . . when that is said 
What more is left for me to say ? 
Now you are free (I know too well) 
To heap contempt upon my head. 
Yet if some sparks of pity dwell 
Within your breast you'll surely not 
Abandon m..."></div>
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