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| II. |
 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
A Wife's Letter.
[_]
‘Not that I've anything special to say, but only that it comes from me.’—E. to G., Jan. 11, 1869.
My Own!
You won't expect to hear
As you have only just departed,
But I'll be better than you fear,
And write as soon as you have started.
It seems a long and tiresome day;
I'm merely writing, as you see,
Not that I've anyting to say,
But only that it comes from me.
You won't expect to hear
As you have only just departed,
But I'll be better than you fear,
And write as soon as you have started.
It seems a long and tiresome day;
I'm merely writing, as you see,
Not that I've anyting to say,
But only that it comes from me.
I watched the carriage out of sight,
And then came back to do my work;
I could not set the stitches right,
And so for once the task I'll shirk;
I've put the children's frocks away
To write a line or two to thee,
Not that I've anything to say,
But only that it comes from me.
And then came back to do my work;
I could not set the stitches right,
And so for once the task I'll shirk;
334
To write a line or two to thee,
Not that I've anything to say,
But only that it comes from me.
I hope the train will not be late,
And that it will not freeze or rain,
And oh! if you should have to wait,
Be sure you don't catch cold again.
I wish this moment on the way
To overtake you I could be!
Not that I've anything to say,
But only to be nearer thee.
And that it will not freeze or rain,
And oh! if you should have to wait,
Be sure you don't catch cold again.
I wish this moment on the way
To overtake you I could be!
Not that I've anything to say,
But only to be nearer thee.
'Tis six-and-twenty hours almost
Before I see you, as I've reckoned;
But you'll get this by early post,
And you'll be home before the second.
I'd like to sit and write all day
To Some One, if my hands were free,
Not that I've anything to say,
But only that it comes from me.
Before I see you, as I've reckoned;
But you'll get this by early post,
And you'll be home before the second.
I'd like to sit and write all day
To Some One, if my hands were free,
Not that I've anything to say,
But only that it comes from me.
Though this is such a stupid letter,
With love and kisses 'tis impearled;
I know that you will like it better
Than all the poems in the world.
I trust that all is safe and well,
Although I am not there to see;
I've nothing else, my Own, to tell,
But only that this comes from me.
With love and kisses 'tis impearled;
I know that you will like it better
Than all the poems in the world.
I trust that all is safe and well,
Although I am not there to see;
I've nothing else, my Own, to tell,
But only that this comes from me.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |