 | Poems by William D. Howells |  |
I.
On your heart I feign myself fallen—ah, heavier burden,Darling, of sorrow and pain than ever shall rest there! I take you
Into these friendless arms of mine, that you cannot escape me;
Closer and closer I fold you, and tell you all, and you listen
Just as you used at home, and you let my sobs and my silence
Speak, when the words will not come—and you understand and forgive me.
—Ah! no, no! but I write, with the wretched bravado of distance,
What you must read unmoved by the pity too far for entreaty.
| Poems by William D. Howells | |