FLOWERS TO COME

For these I weep, so long divided
Through winter's dreary day,
In longing weep--but most when guided
On withered banks to stray. 

If chilly then the light should fall
Adown the dreary sky
And gild the dank and darkened wall
With transient brilliancy, 

How do I yearn, how do I pine
For the time of flowers to come,
And turn me from that fading shine
To mourn the fields of home!

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The Beauty of Touch
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