Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/259

 THE LAST LETTER. 253

For the sunny time touching now and then Holds within a lover-guest.

So they faintly call from the August edge

Of summer to say, &quot;Good-bye,&quot; But she never misses the singing band

That fades in the southern sky ;

For the happy time that was strangely short

Twixt coming and going wings Had its own fair idyl rhymed and set,

And this, little Ruthie sings.

&quot; See ! the birds are here !&quot; &quot;Lo ! the birds have gone!&quot;

Ah ! in all your lifetime, dear, They will never sing, never once again,

As they sang, little Ruth, this year.

��THE LAST LETTER.

WHO knows when the last letter comes How tender and touching a sorrow May hang o er the commonplace words The postman shall bring with the morrow !

A little white fluttering fold,

It tells not its terrible story ; Nor whispers neath ripples of speech

Its place in the doorway of glory. 22

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