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OTHER VERSE |
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So far away, and yet so vividly, Adown life's wonder-sided vista dim.
Welcome thou art, my fellow mourner, here Beside the grave of buried hopes; welcome, Thou sweet and pure good comforter of mine; And mayst thou come again some time, to me, For with thee comes a gentle, tender touch Of pity for Myself, that softeneth, As with an angel's kind and soothing ways, A heart that hath no other pain so sweet; A heart that crying, bleeding with it all, Hugs the strong anguish, for the blessed joy It gave, when that young love was all the world, And heaven, so pure it was, and blissful. |
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HIS ANGEL SLEPT.
Fair of face and debonair; Unbound sheaves of shining hair; Open throated, winning eyes; Lives 'neath never-clouding skies: Soul that's ever moulding art; True and brave, with tender heart; Takes the great world as it goes; Loves the pansy and the rose ;
Finds in every flower honey;
Hates the miser and his money. |
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