A Lady Writing A Letter To Her Beloved

Dear S,
I will not say there was
None ever like you,
That you are
Supreme: that every way your qualities
Outweigh those of all men, each to each.
I will not say all that,
That I am in love
And love is blind.

Dear S,
I will not say
My love is reasonable,
That in thus writing to you
I make much sense;
That any piece of good logic
Can justify the ultimate purport, message, meaning
Of these senseless words,
Or can point out
What worldly goal they ever mean to reach.
My words are lost souls
Like reckless creatures wandering in the snow,
¬Or curbless passions careless of their destination¬ -
But not for this reason
Any the less sincere.

That thing which obeys well
The sanctions of reason,
That feeling which follows
Principles of effect and cause,
That impulse well-guarded
With dictates of common-sense,
Is well-recognised, has all the power
Of authority, but, pardon if I say -¬
Mundane, unoriginal, of no natural blossom,
No innate strength,
It is to me what is unnatural,
Forced, opportunistic, unspontaneous,
While this my darling,
This living, gushing force in my sanguine heart
That sprouts of itself like a joyous fountain,
Is what I believe
And delight in.

Much am I open to the laughter of the world,
The strict, conventional eye will never forgive me;
Men may hurl abuse, and on Reputation's well-groomed face,
All sorts of strange, provoking judgments may be thrown —
¬Oh for Reputation! It is a pity
That the best of feelings should so scar it.
But let it be!
My world to me is the vast territory of my heart,
In which territory,
For once let me breathe!
And take a deep draught like an exultation! !
Oh the joy of free expression!
O you brave, noble, spirits of bygone ages
That ever were suffered to labour under
The yoke of tenacious custom,
Hear me, I speak!
Let me be your poet:
With me all your suffocated, stifled voices
Rise to eternal liberty!

So close your eyes.
And with visionary powers behold
An orange, pink, and purple sky,
As of twilight¬ -
The sun sets slowly, the breeze blows soft,
Pairs of doves fly across,
Their celestial wings touched
With the glory of sunset.
And in that atmosphere of enchantment and romance,
Hear bells tinkle, and hear furthermore
The chime of a hundred voices.
Singing together one after another
In a rhythm,
These are the now unshackled voices of true feeling
Speaking soft love:
See them mingle in joyous harmony
And soar to liberty
With the doves!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Kazi Ahmed 22 November 2011
Well written. The emotion expressed in this poem is incomparable! Thanks! !
0 0 Reply
Preeti - is here! 16 July 2006
It's a spectacularly romantic letter...not the typical, but surely lovey-dovey! Preets
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