Going to her! Happy  letter! Tell her-

Tell her the page I didn’t write;

Tell her I only said the syntax,

And left the verb and pronoun out.

Tell her just how the finger s hurried,

Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow;

And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,

So you could see what moved them so.

Tell her it wasn’t a practiced writer,

You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled

you could hear the bodice tug, behind you,

as if it held but the might of a child;

you almost pitied it, you, it worked so,

tell her- no, you may quibble there,

and then you and I were silenter.

Tell her night finished before we finished,

And the table clock kept neighing “day!”

And you got sleepy and begged to be ended-

What could it hinder, to say?

Tell her, how he sealed you, cautious,

But if she asks where are you hid

Until tomorrow, -happy letter!

Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!’