Ride to the Lady - And Other Poems by Helen Gray Cone
page 43 of 59 (72%)
page 43 of 59 (72%)
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Half for me and half for you.
Cleave and share it. Now, good sooth, God be with you, Comrade Youth! THE FAIR GRAY LADY When the charm at last is fled From the woodland stark and pale, And like shades of glad hours dead Whirl the leaves before the gale: When against the western fire Darkens many an empty nest, Like a thwarted heart's desire That in prime was hardly guessed: Then the fair gray Lady leans, Lingering, o'er the faded grass, Still the soul of all the scenes Once she graced, a golden lass. O'er the Year's discrowned sleep, Dear as in her earlier day, She her bending watch doth keep, She the Goldenrod grown gray. |
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