Page:Poems E. L. F.djvu/116

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Is life, then, worth the living for,
When the heart's spring is gone?

Care after care rests on the soul—
Fresh trials year by year—
Until the heart is worn away
By time's dark impress here.

They tell me age brings to the heart
A deadened sense of pain;
If grief and trials lose one pang,
Who would be young again?

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