THE SUN ON THE LETTER

I drew the letter out, while gleamed

The sloping sun from under a roof

Of cloud whose verge rose visibly.

The burning ball flung rays that seemed

Stretched like a warp without a woof

Across the levels of the lea

To where I stood, and where they beamed

As brightly on the page of proof

That she had shown her false to me

As if it had shown her true — had teemed

With passionate thought for my behoof

Expressed with their own ardency!