 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
131
A SPRING THOUGHT
Overgrow my grave,
Kindly grass;
Do not wave
To those who pass
A single mournful thought
Of affection come to nought.
Kindly grass;
Do not wave
To those who pass
A single mournful thought
Of affection come to nought.
Look up to the blue
Where, light-hid,
Lives what doth renew
Man's chrysalid.
Say not: She is here,
Say not: She was there.
Say: She lives in God,
Reigning everywhere.
Where, light-hid,
Lives what doth renew
Man's chrysalid.
Say not: She is here,
Say not: She was there.
Say: She lives in God,
Reigning everywhere.
| From Sunset Ridge | |