I sat beside her softly dying In the bright and song-filled morn, The busy world outside denying Death, although my heart was torn.
From weary lids the pent-up tears Poured down in cataracts of pain Remembering the joyous years And love I would not see again.
The singing months return once more Their beauty burdening the skies As I look through a strange new door Seeking the untold mysteries.
The chapters of our lives are filled With pages torn from Being's book When the beloved's voice is stilled And one is forced within to look,
The inner wells of light to find, A peace no sorrow can deny, In silent chambers of the mind Explore our future destiny.
Poems Undated (1727)
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