| Not wrought with Misery, Abide — | |||||
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| Not wrought with Misery, Abide —
My truth lies deeper; simple, Of Memory's provisions Here — The Sun, my Heart, ne'er dampen Bereaved at Heart; one tattered — torn In agony, I fare But, what — to welcome merry Days! — A Pulse, a Ray; Love nears... With Slight of eye, a dew drop Tear, Courageous life — repents; Reveal in Solace — solace in God, And I, morose; content. |
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3 April 2007
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