16
POEMS BY CLARA A. MERRILL
Sad the way seems now, and lonely,
As we journey day by day
Paths through which she wandered, only
Scattering brightness o'er the way.
As we journey day by day
Paths through which she wandered, only
Scattering brightness o'er the way.
Memory points with beckoning finger
Through the mists of long ago
To her songs, which sweetly linger
In the hush of twilight's glow—
Points to words of comfort, spoken
By those lips so good and true—
Tells of her love, so true, unbroken,
And we weep in grief anew.
Through the mists of long ago
To her songs, which sweetly linger
In the hush of twilight's glow—
Points to words of comfort, spoken
By those lips so good and true—
Tells of her love, so true, unbroken,
And we weep in grief anew.
For the gentle hands lie folded,
And the pure heart now is still;
And the brow, in beauty molded
By the Hand of Death, so chill
Is now at rest.—Yet visions brightly
Through the misty haze will bring
A joy, like whispered promise, lightly
Wafted as on Zephyr's wing.
And the pure heart now is still;
And the brow, in beauty molded
By the Hand of Death, so chill
Is now at rest.—Yet visions brightly
Through the misty haze will bring
A joy, like whispered promise, lightly
Wafted as on Zephyr's wing.
