<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=383919" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>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 to-night.<br>This said,--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>Yet I wept for it !--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--and so its ink has paled<br>With Iying at my heart that beat too fast.<br>And this . . . O 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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=383919" data-title="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 to-night. This said,--he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this..."></div> </div> </div>

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