"
"There was, in truth, a letter writ
On sand," I said, "and swept from view;
But that same hand which fashioned it
Is given to you.
"Efface the letter; wherefore keep
An image which the sands forego?"
"Albeit that fear had seemed to sleep,"
She answered low,
"I could not choose but wake it now;
For do but turn aside your face,
A house on yonder hilly brow
Your eyes may trace.
"The chestnut shelters it; ah me,
That I should have so faint a heart!
But yester-eve, as by the sea
I sat apart,
"I heard a name, I saw a hand
Of passing stranger point that way--
And will he meet her on the strand,
When late we stray?
"For she is come, for she is there,
I heard it in the dusk, and heard
Admiring words, that named her fair,
But little stirred
"By beauty of the wood and wave,
And weary of an old man's sway;
For it was sweeter to enslave
Than to obey."
--The voice of one that near us stood,
The rustle of a silken fold,
A scent of eastern sandal wood,
A gleam of gold!
A lady! In the narrow space
Between the husband and the wife,
But nearest him--she showed a face
With dangers rife;
A subtle smile that dimpling fled,
As night-black lashes rose and fell:
I looked, and to myself I said,
"The letter L.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96