The years are bringing my sorrow fast
And my wakeful nights won’t come to their last,
Just now.
THE VOICE OF A ROSE
The rose that spoke
To her dying soul
Is the rose ne’er let
Our love grow cold.
With each breath
She’d sigh and say,
This rose tells me
There’s a brighter day.
And when that rose
Begins to die,
She’d kiss its petals,
Then tenderly cry.
A PHOTO
If I only had a photo
Of my happy days
To hang on this wall of misery,
That’s weakening my better ways.
Oh! come, oh! gentle vision,
Of long, long ago,
And make that happy picture
That I once use to know.
Paint those beautiful eyes,
That did always shine
And liven my trembling lips
That they taught to speak words unkind.
Why my lips us to part
With a loving, tender smile,
But those days are stolen
That meant me life worth while.