SIGNS OF SPRING.
Come, listen to the robin. As he gaily swings to and froOn a bough of the old gray poplar, Singing merrily, now high, now low.See how the sweet little jonquils, Just lifting their heads from the ground,Having been asleep all the winter, Are now timidly gazing around,Saying: "we're fearful still, that old winter May not be all gone yet,And if we're not very careful A nipping we'll be sure to get."The birds and the flowers and the children With joy hail the coming of spring,For the trees their embryo verdure Soon forth to the light will bring
MY DEAR, DEAD LOVE.
O dearest, sweetest, best! My own first love!Look down with tender Pitying eyes from up Above!I am so tired with this Weary, endless strife.The days and days of toil Of this—called life!This life—a living death, With agony in every breath.Stretch out thy hand and touch me, You from that far land!
I stretch my arms about me But they empty fall,Darkness is all around Me, like a pall!Send me some word, Some message, O my love,One little message Only from Above!I speak, you answer not. So far away!I call, you cannot hear One word I say,The only time you ever Turned unwilling ear;The only time I ever called You would not hear!
Yes; I am weary, darling With the strife.And long so much to hear you say: "My love, my life, my wife!"
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