Individual Assignment 2.C

Poem C

THE LETTER

by: Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1906)

 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!