"A LETTER FROM TO-MORROW."[THE WORDS OF A CHILD.]
The child stood sweet and shy:
"Now listen,—do not cry:
'A Letter from To-morrow———" he piteously said;
Then wavered, frowned, and blushed,
And looked away and hushed
The elfin voice that spoke through lips of human red.
"Now listen,—do not cry:
'A Letter from To-morrow———" he piteously said;
Then wavered, frowned, and blushed,
And looked away and hushed
The elfin voice that spoke through lips of human red.
"I cannot read the rest,"
He prettily confessed,
"Because—it is not plain!" Ah, would I hear it read?
Poor little hands, to hold
A thing so dim and cold,
So full of sad shorn hair and last words of the dead!
He prettily confessed,
"Because—it is not plain!" Ah, would I hear it read?
Poor little hands, to hold
A thing so dim and cold,
So full of sad shorn hair and last words of the dead!
Let it go where it will,
There must be news of ill
Send it to that great house across the shining street:—
There must be news of ill
Send it to that great house across the shining street:—
