| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Letter | | By Helen Hoyt |
| | From “City Pastorals”
THE WORDS were beautiful, | |
| Before I had read them. | |
| |
| I laid my fingers along the edges, | |
| Over the fold your hands had folded— | |
| I laid my face to the face of my letter. | 5 |
| |
| Softly came down and closed in about me | |
| A solitude, | |
| A separate world; | |
| In which was no sound or motion or being, | |
| Only the whispering of the paper | 10 |
| Stirring to life in my brain. | |
| |
| All day I carried it | |
| Against me, | |
| Like a bird; | |
| Against my heart where my life is, | 15 |
| Like a secret waiting in my heart, | |
| Singing. | | | | |
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