Hid in a field.{11}

{11}

For them no more the splendor of the storm,

The fair delights

Of moon and star-shine, glimmering faint and warm

On summer nights.

Their little lives they yield in summer death,

And frequently

Across the field bereaved their dying breath

Is brought to me.

{12}

{12}

Twilight

I SAW her walking in the rain,

I

And sweetly drew she nigh;

And then she crossed the hills again

To bid the day good-by.

“Good-by! good-by!

The world is dim as sorrow;

 Prev. P 9/78 next