I did not mean you to be hurt at all.

How silly and how dear, how very dear
To send a dehydrated porcupine
By letter post, with love. It did appear
That is was such --- a gift, but more a sign
Of love, from her I love, that girl of mine.

I did not think it too exceptional
(Acceptance being one part of being in love)
And yet I thought it strange, for you could call
It strange to send a dried-up porcupine
With love. My dear, I thought. O darling mine.

And stroked with love its quills so soft and fine
At which I saw is was not animal
But vegetable. Yes, it was a vegetable --
The prickly part of some old hoary pine
She had detached and sent me, plus a line

There scribbled in her dear and silly scrawl:
"I hope it did not prick you, dearest mine,
I did not mean you to be hurt at all."

--Ian Hamiliton Finlay