Page:Hand in hand; (IA handinhand00kipl).pdf/78



AM not used to sorrow. Until now I have lain softly, lulled in happy years, My eyes are puzzled by the smart of tears; Pain finds no throne made ready on my brow, I have not learnt yet how the head should bow When the sad heart is weighted with its fears; Grey Grief walks near me, but she still appears As one apart from me: I know not how.

All flowers do not die in Winter's frost, Some few live bravely till the Spring shall come: Pale Christmas rose and faint chrysanthemum Survive, sometimes, the highest snowdrift tost. Let me still smile: since Death cannot benumb Remembered Love, and Love was never lost.