HELD his letter in my hand,
And even while I read
The lightning flashed across the land
The word that he was dead.
How strange it seemed! His living voice
Was speaking from the page
Those courteous phrases, tersely choice,
Light-hearted, witty, sage.
I wondered what it was that died!
The man himself was here,
His modesty, his scholar's pride,
His soul serene and clear.
These neither death nor time shall dim,
Still this sad thing must be
Henceforth I may not speak to him,
Though he can speak to me!
Wonderful I LOVE it! Thanks for sharing, take care, Martine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this one is.... im sry to put so much comments but really ur poems are great ... wonderful again