Elizabethan days . as if I were a sauntered up the marble stairs and in the door,Old Wilhelm bowing met me Some news in Herr, the Baroness has asked that youCall her at once and to the phone I flew,Which hung upon the wall, besideThe lounge where Bayard Taylor hear from her my heart could hardly wait,But soon I heard her voice You are a trifle late;Oh, wont you come up to our home at threeAnd go to the Winter Garden skating with me?Of course I shall—Wilhelm a droschky met the little Baroness, done out in furs and sweater on the crowded ice we glided,
Elizabethan days . as if I were a sauntered up the marble stairs and in the door,Old Wilhelm bowing met me Some news in Herr, the Baroness has asked that youCall her at once and to the phone I flew,Which hung upon the wall, besideThe lounge where Bayard Taylor hear from her my heart could hardly wait,But soon I heard her voice You are a trifle late;Oh, wont you come up to our home at threeAnd go to the Winter Garden skating with me?Of course I shall—Wilhelm a droschky met the little Baroness, done out in furs and sweater on the crowded ice we glided, not a cloud I knew,Success in life seemed only what I choose to last I spoke my heart: In one short month I leave for homeTo make my fortune, it does not pay to roam,Else, truly, you must come to the States with red lips pouted, she replied, You must stay here and be— A knock upon the door—I wake—it is a morn-ing fair,The sun is streaming through my windows fromPenn Square. January 6, THE PAIN THAT LASTS THROUGH LIFE MALL sorrows smart and leave their scars,But never fail to heal;A million in our lives may comeEach poignant and each touch the heart, no earthly power,No balm, nor thread, nor knifeCan ever stanch the constant flow,The pain that lasts through life. To outward eyes we stand and meet All comers with a smile, Our head is high, our voices clear, We cheerfully beguile; But underneath there is the flow, The inward throbbings rife, That drip from out the injured heart, The pain that lasts through life. Small sorrows smart and leave their scars, And cover us with gloom; Throw highest hopes into a rut, And send us to our doom; But when our heart is touched we rise Triumphant in the strife; We win, but ever bleeds the wound, The pain that lasts through life. January 10r 1910. 18
Size: 1411px × 1770px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidelizabethand, bookyear1912
