The next moment you were laughing with him -- two children playing together . But I had looked upon you in that brief space . Oh , the pain and joy of it ! * * * * * It is so sweet , dear , to serve you a little , though it be only in opening a door for you to pass through , or handing you a book or a sheet of music ! Love wishes to do so much for the beloved ! I can do so little for you , but that little is sweet . * * * * * This evening I read to you the poem which you had asked me to read . You sat before me with your brown head leaning on your hands and your eyes cast down . I stole dear glances at you between the lines . When I finished I put a red , red rose from your garden between the pages and crushed the book close on it . That poem will always be dear to me , stained with the life-blood of a rose-like hour . * * * * * I do not know which is the sweeter , your laughter or your sadness . When you laugh you make me glad , but when you are sad I want to share in your sadness and soothe it . I think I am nearer to you in your sorrowful moods . * * * * * Today I met you by accident at the turn of the lane . Nothing told me that you were coming -- not even the wind , that should have known . I was sad , and then all at once I saw you , and wondered how I could have been sad . You walked past me with a smile , as if you had tossed me a rose . I stood and watched you out of sight . That meeting was the purple gift the day gave me .
* * * * * Today I tried to write a poem to you , Una , but I could not find words fine enough , as a lover could find no raiment dainty enough XXXXX his bride .
at before for of on past that though upon with