I gathered up the letter and the charms in order to return them and wrote the following poem on the wrapping paper: Your brush marks tell me,
“After this, no more!”
My silken sleeves
Are wet with tears.
I refolded the paper as it had been, and sent it back. There was no further word from him, and what more could I say? The year drew to an uneventful close. [2.10] |
