As the gorgeously tinted rainbow

Retains not its varied dyes,

We change, with the constant mutation,

Of desert, of sea, and skies;

But the Hand which made,

Knows each transient shade,

Which passes before the eyes.

"Which smile from their heights on the town of Ouray." OURAY, COLORADO.

 

 Missed.

Pity the child who never feels

A mother's fond caress;

That childish smile a void conceals

Of aching loneliness.

Pity the heart which loves in vain,

What balm or mystic spell

Can soothe that bosom's secret pain,

The pain it may not tell?

Pity those missed by Cupid's darts,

For 'twas ordained for such,

 Prev. P 46/131 next