MY PICTURES.
[Inscribed to my brother and sister, Mr. and Mrs. H. S. Hunt, of San Francisco, Cal.]
While my heart is softly singing To itself a low-toned song,And the white waves of remembrance Surge within it deep and strong;Tossing upward to the surface Pearly pleasures I have lost,I can hear the gentle murmur Of the waters I have crossed.
Of the sunny stream of childhood That has flown so far away;Rippling, sparkling in the sunlight Of a pure and cloudless day,Gliding through the shifting shadows, Gleaming beautiful and bright—Speeding onward through the meadows Like a living thing of light.
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