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 HUS I found them labelled, In an old bureau ; Hands that wrote and eyes that read Withered long ago ; Fulness of the story No one now can know. Softly laid together All the letters now ; Do they bend above them still, — Saints with radiant brow ? "Gregory to Margaret." All is uttered now ; Gone the seal of silence, That delayed their vow. Should I burn them dumbly ! Half I thought it well. ' T was not mine, the sacred thing Was it right to tell? Halo of its sacredness Should I thus dispel ?