Mine only; hers only the dream and repose.
I am weary of waiting, and weary of tears,
And my heart wearies, too, all these desolate years,
Moaning over the one only song that it knows,—
The little red ribbon, the ring and the rose!
“HOW DID YOU REST, LAST NIGHT?”
“How did you rest, last night?”—
I’ve heard my gran’pap say