The Verse-Book of a Homely Woman by Fay [Pseudonym] Inchfawn
page 58 of 73 (79%)
page 58 of 73 (79%)
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At His bidding my bands fell apart, He had burst them asunder. I can feel the swift wind rushing by me, once more the old wonder Of quickening sap stirs my pulses -- I shout in my gladness, Forgetting the sadness, For the Voice of the Lord fills the air! And forth through the hollow I go, where in glad April weather, The trees of the forest break out into singing together. And here the frail windflowers will cluster, with young ferns uncurling, Where broader and deeper my waters go eddying, whirling, To meet the sweet Spring on her journey -- His servant to be, Whose word set me free! Luggage in Advance "The Fairies must have come," I said, "For through the moist leaves, brown and dead, The Primroses are pushing up, |
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