A Love-Letter - A poem by Frederick J. Atwood

A Love-Letter.

I sit within my desert home and gaze
With vacant and unseeing eyes upon
The various adjuncts of the place whereon
Our mutual thought and toil have sought to raise
A sweet oasis: and as I look, a haze
Blots out the scene, and in its place is come
A vision of green hills, and streams that run
With gentle murmur like a song of praise.
'Tis the home of childhood and of early youth;
The hallowed ground that holds in sacred keep
Mem'ries that cluster 'round the dawn of life.
A face and form is there, which, in all truth,
Is rarely absent from my thought^___a sweet
Girl face^___so sweet I whisper, "Little wife!"

^__Frederick J. Atwood.

1888