Poems (Osgood)/To Anna

by Frances Sargent Osgood

TO ANNA,

In reply to a Letter.

Don't say you are "ugly," you darling
 While still your sweet letters unfold
The same glowing soul that enliven'd
 Those delicate features of old!—

That soul, whose pure tire would illume, love,
 A cheek of less exquisite mould,
With a changeable beauty and bloom, love,
 To which Aphrodite's were cold.

Don't say you've grown "ugly and stupid,"
 While still in each line I can trace
Some glimpse of those lovely emotions
 Which once I could read in your face!

When you tell me your mind wears a chain, love,
 When you tell me your heart is asleep,
Then may-be, but never till then, love,
 The wreck of your beauty I'll weep.