Trees and wayside flowers . hts that burn and burn within. The heart that glows with too much gladness, Also will with sadness overflow. The soul with depth of feeling which lies too deep for tears, And finds no outlet in all the weary years. So digs its grave. Its sepulchre is made. To that soul with need supreme, Ever aching with a dream, That her cry is heard; Could she feel just once again Twining arms about her thrown, Warm caresses all her own. O, joy, thou tarriest long! O, God, no longer can I keep My soul from fainting, keep my soul from sleep. The hesitating, cold, grey dawn Now cree
Trees and wayside flowers . hts that burn and burn within. The heart that glows with too much gladness, Also will with sadness overflow. The soul with depth of feeling which lies too deep for tears, And finds no outlet in all the weary years. So digs its grave. Its sepulchre is made. To that soul with need supreme, Ever aching with a dream, That her cry is heard; Could she feel just once again Twining arms about her thrown, Warm caresses all her own. O, joy, thou tarriest long! O, God, no longer can I keep My soul from fainting, keep my soul from sleep. The hesitating, cold, grey dawn Now creeping in the room, Reveals two colored servants Kneeling close beside the chair Of their loved misttress. There cries and groans now fill the room. The candle now burned down within its socket bed. The log no slumbering flame The moaning wind could now provoke. The light of earth life passed Beyond the veil that just divides, That only hides a little while all those we love, Had left its waxen image in the chair. H243 78 522.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidtreeswayside, bookyear1920
