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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=383804" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Letters! all dead paper. . . (Sonnet XXVIII)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!<br>And yet they seem alive and quivering<br>Against my tremulous hands which loose the string<br>And let them drop down on my knee tonight.<br>This said&#8212;he wished to have me in his sight<br>Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring<br>To come and touch my hand. . . a simple thing,<br>Yes I wept for it&#8212;this . . . the paper's light. . .<br>Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed<br>As if God's future thundered on my past.<br>This said, I am thine&#8212;and so its ink has paled<br>With lying at my heart that beat too fast.<br>And this . . . 0 Love, thy words have ill availed<br>If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Barrett+Browning">Elizabeth Barrett Browning</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=383804" data-title="My Letters! all dead paper. . . (Sonnet XXVIII) de Elizabeth Barrett Browning" data-description="My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee tonight.
This said&#8212;he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: thi..."></div>
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