Last night, I read you this poem by John Masefield:
I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills
Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain;
I have seen the lady April bringing the daffodils,
Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain.
I have heard the song of the blossoms and the old chant of the sea,
And seen strange lands from under the arched white sails of ships;
But the loveliest thing of beauty God ever has shown to me,
Are her voice, and her hair, and eyes, and the dear red curve of her lips.
When I finished, you said that I was sweet to read you that poem. Then you told me that the things I said in your letter were things you prayed I would realize. Then, you asked me to read the letter to you. That would’ve been nice, but I refused because I was too embarrassed (but I wasn’t embarrassed to read you this poem? Odd.). I should read it to you if that’s what you’d like.