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122
Poems of Love.
THE BURNT LETTER.
IV. 87.
Good-bye, love-letter, good-bye! 'T is her command.…
How long I waited, how long my hand
To the fire my joys to yield was loath!…
But eno', the hour has come: burn, letter of my love!
I am ready: listens more my soul to nought.
Now the greedy flame thy sheets shall lick…
A minute!… they crackle, they blaze … a light smoke
Curls and is lost with prayer mine.
Now the finger's faithful imprint losing
Burns the melted wax.… О Heavens!
Done it is! curled in are the dark sheets;
Upon their ashes light the lines adored
Are gleaming.… My breast is heavy. Ashes dear,
In my sorrowful lot but poor consolation,
Remain for aye with me on my weary breast.…
1825.
