My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive, and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
MRS. BROWNING: _Sonnets fr. Portuguese,_ Sonnet xxviii.
Kind messages, that pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history,
In which we feel the pressure of a hand,--
One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!
LONGFELLOW: _Dedication to Seaside and Fireside,_ St. 5.
You have the letters Cadmus gave,--
Think ye he meant them for a slave?.
BYRON: _Don Juan,_ Canto iii., St. 86. 10.