Yet memory kindles the blossoms that perish
Like hope that was happy by Atkinson's mill.
THEODORE HARDING RAND
THE DRAGONFLY
I
WINGED wonder of motion
In splendor of sheen,
Yet memory kindles the blossoms that perish
Like hope that was happy by Atkinson's mill.
I
WINGED wonder of motion
In splendor of sheen,