in Munsey's Archives - Timeless Poem

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CONSOLATION.

CONSOLATION. 384.9 We sigh for days that are no more, We mourn the loss of passions dead; We sing the threnodies of yore, And weep the tear of pleasures fled. Yet o'er the pathways of to-day Some lingering roses still may lean, And where…

THE TOUCH OF A HAND.

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THE TOUCH OF A HAND. 409.2 At times when the world seems dead, And the heart is bound in frost, Where every bird or blossom Forgotten is, or lost; A hand is laid in ours- Ah, the world is not so wrong, And for every bud that blooms The…

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