The great hands have turned another year And I look back, not forward as I must Hold sacred the remembrance of things dear And beauty that once wedded me, now dust. A single path we found as ours to pace And under foreign skies that were our own, For love is an eternity of grace A field of flowers, fragrant, richly sown. I cannot speak for those who walk alone, Not knowing if love's fire burned as mine, But this I'll say, not more, now love is gone, Her coming was a gift the more divine For that we grew as one above all pain, Such love once found shall find itself again.
Poems Undated (1727)
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