Excerpt from To You, Dear Heart, to You: Told When the Heart Is Sad
My heart is sad, my soul seems dead, As I sit in the twilight alone; My tired hands caress the bowl And incense fills the room. The petals within are withered and dead: They tell me of joys that are done; The... y tell of a heart that is weary and spent, Of a life race nearly run.
I can see again an old-fashioned rose, Whose petals lie there 'mid the rest. 'twas given to me long years ago By a woman, 'mong others, the best; 'twas years ago, but my memory Paints clearly that picture tonight. I'd give my all - my future years To again drink in that sight.
The old-fashioned garden, the head bending low, To pluck the red rose from its stem; The tired old hands, the silver-gray locks, Her smile like the Savior of men.
Oh! My heart is sad, my soul seems dead; Would that I were a child again.
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