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AN APPEAL
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


162

AN APPEAL

W. R. D.—H. R. D.

Has the old pain been stilled?
Are the old woes forgot?
Art thou dwelling now, love,
Where grief and care are not?
In that land are there any
To call thee by thy name?
To bless thee or caress thee?
To praise thee or to blame?
In the house of many mansions
Is there one all thine own,
Where, O dear home-lover,
Thou dost set thy throne?

163

Tell me, O well-belovèd!
O tell me, dost thou know
How still through cloud and sunshine
The earth days come and go?
I pray thee understand us!
Life claims us for its own;
Woven of light and darkness
Its web is round us thrown.
We sleep, we dream, we waken;
We go our busy ways;
We work, we play we loiter,
As in the olden days;
We are glad in Nature's gladness;
In color, light, and song;
In the glory of the harvest
When summer days are long;
In the uplift of the mountains;
The splendor of the seas;

164

The flush of dawn and sunset;
The freshness of the breeze;
In the joys that still are left us;
In the loves that still are ours;
In the hope that follows failure;
In the calm of twilight hours.
Yet think not we forget thee
Whether we dream or pray!
Art thou not glad, belovèd,
That we do not weep alway?