And dearest seem of all our memories.
THE LETTER
I can’t tell you, girl, how I love you—it is something the woods never teach;
I can lie all the night and think of you, but I can’t put the matter in speech—
But it’s love like the blue skies above you that around the whole universe reach.
It is love that is wide as the arches of stars from the east to the west;
It is love that is long as the marches of sunrise to sunset and rest;
It is love that is strong as the larches that mount to earth’s uttermost crest.
In the woods we are rougher than others you know in the parlors of town;
To the wolf and the wild we are brothers, we are kin to the creatures of brown;