Thou couldst not hear in earthly way, and so Didst learn of other worlds, where spirits dwell, To share with us, when sore our need, the spell That thrills when numbing Sorrow's pulse is low- When cutting anguish bleeds, that stills the flow. Thy wounded heart hath paid our price so well, We rise from ebb of woe to joyous swell On surging throb of thine adagio. When friendship's kindest words are those unsaid To thee in groping grief our hearts have turned, While dark despair departs with new hopes glowing. This love must rise to thee- the never-dead; And in that heaven that thou hast nobly earned Dost thou not find a higher in the knowing?
Extent
1 page ; 10 x 8 inches
Rights Note
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