A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman.
Eternal love and instant payment!

A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman.
Eternal love and instant payment!

Messenger of sympathy and love,
Servant of parted friends,
Consoler of the lonely,
Bond read more

Messenger of sympathy and love,
Servant of parted friends,
Consoler of the lonely,
Bond of the scattered family,
Enlarger of the common life.

And he wrote in the king Ahasuerus' name, and sealed it with the
king's ring, and sent letters by read more

And he wrote in the king Ahasuerus' name, and sealed it with the
king's ring, and sent letters by posts on horseback, and riders
on mules, camels, and young dromedaries: . . . .
So the posts that rode upon mules and camels went out, being
hastened and pressed on by the king's commandment. And the
decrees was given at Shushan the palace.

An exquisite invention this,
Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,--
This art of writing billet-doux--
read more

An exquisite invention this,
Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,--
This art of writing billet-doux--
In buds, and odors, and bright hues!
In saying all one feels and thinks
In clever daffodils and pinks;
In puns of tulips; and in phrases,
Charming for their truth, of daisies.

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.

Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no
good.

Now my days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no
good.

The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commission'd to expound;
It speaks itself, read more

The welcome news is in the letter found;
The carrier's not commission'd to expound;
It speaks itself, and what it does contain,
In all things needful to be known is plain.

Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow,
Led thro' a said variety of woe:
Now warm in read more

Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow,
Led thro' a said variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!

Thy letter sent to prove me,
Inflicts no sense of wrong;
No longer wilt thou love me,--
read more

Thy letter sent to prove me,
Inflicts no sense of wrong;
No longer wilt thou love me,--
Thy letter, though is long.