Amor Litteras In Antiquis - the Old Love Letter

Velvet paper tinctured pink, A red rose at its crest; The whittled feather, bathed in ink, Set to bare its best. A lambent candle close at hand With dancing, flitting flare; Where evening translates its command And nothing stirs the air. Words are authored, truly writ, Where, from the soul they flow; As on the page they snugly sit, Affection to bestow. Filling out each careful line, Each one a work of art, Hand and mind, with pen, entwine Concerted to the heart. And when the tender prose she'll read And tastes the chaste romance. She feels a shivered chill, indeed, Deep in her breast ~ per chance? And as the fondest words engage, Seen through her moistened eyes: A teardrop falls to blot the page And stays and never dries.