 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
136
TO-DAY.
A star whose radiance far and bright
Has shone till now along my way,
Is gathering up its robe of light,
And fading from my sight—to-day.
Has shone till now along my way,
Is gathering up its robe of light,
And fading from my sight—to-day.
A hand that I had prayed to clasp
In mine, through life's uncertain way,
Is falling coldly from my grasp
And leaving me alone,—to-day.
In mine, through life's uncertain way,
Is falling coldly from my grasp
And leaving me alone,—to-day.
A hope that brightened summer's morns,
Fades, with this autumn eve, away,—
The path I tread has more of thorns
And fewer blossoms, from to-day.
Fades, with this autumn eve, away,—
The path I tread has more of thorns
And fewer blossoms, from to-day.
I weep not o'er my buried trust;
I have no pleading word to say;—
I lay my forehead in the dust
And pray for patient strength—to-day!
I have no pleading word to say;—
I lay my forehead in the dust
And pray for patient strength—to-day!
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |