A Love Letter By Miss. Paula

You have an itch to tell me ‘I love you.’ You want me to tell you that I love you. Why must this phrase be precious for lovers? Sans this verbal, can’t love and care exist? You and I are friends; it goes for sometimes. You must have ascertained my sentiments And discovered my inclination towards you. What more do you want at this juncture? Must you be adamant in your insistence On my confession of passion for you? Instead of pressing a lady on this, You must see from her conceal her love for you. You must help her develop her interest Before she perceives your interest- By hiding her from her observation And letting her desire to take root in. Can there be any situation, sir, More charming than that of perceiving A woman in love without herself being Conscious of depth of her interest? Isn’t a triumph to rejoice in secret Over what she has yet to recognize? She herself discovering her interest For you will hasten acceptance of you. Women labour under great difficulties; A declaration of love is always A mortifying experience to us. Man may not know at what cost it must come. It is woman’s instinct to retain power Of obliging a man to hope, fear, pray And beseech as long as they deem fit Till before she confesses to her love. How I would behave towards you now on May not add to regard you have for me. “I can promise you that you’ll not like me Less upon knowing me better.” Assure! 27.04.2015 (Inspired by the character Miss Paula in the novel, A Laodicean, by Thomas Hardy.)