The Dead Letter.

Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1695, 24 July 1875, Page 6 (Supplement)

The Dead Letter.

BY JOHN G. SAKE,

And can it be ? Ah yes I see, 'Tis thirty years and better Since Mary Morgan sent to me This musty, musky letter. A pretty hand (she couldn t spell), As any man must vote it; And 'twas as I remember well, A pretty hand that wrote it! How calmly now I view it all, As memory backward ranges— The talks, the walks, that I recal, And then—the postal changes ! How well I loved her I can guess (Since cadi ia Cupiii's hostage) — Just one anl-sixpe ice—nothing less — This letter cost in postage ! That love that wrote at such a rate (By Jove it was a steep one!) Five hundred notes (I calculate) Was certainly a deep one ; And yet it died —of slow decline — Perhaps suspicion chilled it; I've quite forgotten if 'iwas mine Or Mary's fiirtiog killed it. At last the fatal message came : ' My letters—please return them ; And yours—of course you wish the same — I'll send them buck or burn them.' Two precious fools, I must allow, Whichever was tho greater ; I wonder if I'm wiser now, Some seven lusters later ? And this alone remained ! Ah, well! These words of warm affjetion, Tho faded ink, the pungent smell, Are food for deep reflection. They tell of how the heart contrives To change with fancy's fashion, And how a drop of musk survives The strongest human passion !