36
A FLOWER OF A DAY.
All forgiving, all believing,
Not one lost we loved before,
Looking towards the hills of heaven
Calmly from the eternal shore.
Not one lost we loved before,
Looking towards the hills of heaven
Calmly from the eternal shore.
A FLOWER OF A DAY.
LD friend, that with a pale and pensile graceClimbest the lush hedgerows, art thou back again,
Marking the slow round of the wond'rous years?
Didst beckon me a moment, silent flower?
Silent? As silent is the archangel's pen
That day by day writes our life chronicle,
And turns the page,—the half-forgotten page,
Which all eternity will never blot.
That day by day writes our life chronicle,
And turns the page,—the half-forgotten page,
Which all eternity will never blot.
Forgotten? No, we never do forget:
We let the years go: wash them clean with tears,
Leave them to bleach, out in the open day,
Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes,
Till we shall dare unfold them without pain,—
But we forget not, never can forget.
We let the years go: wash them clean with tears,
Leave them to bleach, out in the open day,
Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes,
Till we shall dare unfold them without pain,—
But we forget not, never can forget.
