Unsent Letters
I'VE a box of my own, for myself, and no one has the key,
It is filled with the trifles that matter, and thoughts without end;
With the loves I have lost, and the joys that were taken from me,
And there, in a pile, are the letters I never shall send.
There are letters to you, and there's many a letter to him,
Full of fancies forgotten, and follies once dear to a friend,
I look at them seldom, but always with eyes that are dim,
And I dare not re-read them, the letters I never shall send.
I wish I had sent them, for life might have given me much,
Which now is denied, had I had but the courage to spend,
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