A Letter

Two things love can do, Only two: Can distrust, or can believe; It can die, or it can live, There is no syncope Possible to love or me. Go your ways! Two things you can do, Only two: Be the thing you used to be, Or be nothing more to me. I can but joy or grieve, Can no more than die or live. Go your ways! So far I wrote, my darling, drearily, But now my sad pen falls down wearily From out my trembling hand. I did not, do not, cannot mean it, Dear! Come life or death, joy, grief, or hope, or fear, I bless you where I stand! I bless you where I stand, excusing you, No speech nor language for accusing you My laggard lips can learn. To you--be what you are, or can, to me,-- To you or blessedly or fatefully My heart must turn!