A DEAD LETTER. "A cæur blessé-l'ombre et le silence." H. DE BALZAC. I. I DREW it from its china tomb; It came That dust and days had lent it. An old, old letter,-folded still ! To read with due composure, I sought the sun-lit window-sill, Above the gray enclosure, That glimmering in the sultry haze, Faint-flowered, dimly shaded, Slumbered like Goldsmith's Madam Blaize, Bedizened and brocaded. A queer old place! You'd surely say Some tea-board garden-maker To please some florist Quaker, |
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