| Show 1 Y I l I I THESE SONNETS BY POST WHEELER Let I but love me Lord and loving stay RIll RIllar jf ar ever trel nearer whore my bun heart Is la Deeming at nt length that lIlt naught can cai count save 1111 e this The t tu w h of oC loved lips meeting In loi 1018 g May MayBo Bo So shall my bitterness pass quite away n Ia Am i 1 who havo done many things amiss hall feel Thy fhy loving kindness In her I kiss And knowing heaven here shall to pi ay Let this but be for tor me mIl Lord Lor I will willIt It I ITo To In hi r I whispers guide her Bien d dr r feet Hold up Ul her Iter hands and fold her hor at It the tho thelast last When for Cor our rest lifes little leagues am passed And looking further skies 61 shall ope more tweet sweet While the dead sinks Into dream dreaming ing daik Child we ye called her knowing not If It He lie Had shaped her frailly to require her soon So she seemed for life a blurt luno Tutting on en grace graco like n pale little tree j jAnd And when wilen he ho passed girlish May to bu be Hart Itar more womanly from noon to noon Mon s hll l we called her still So ripe h her r June Looked level love from her deep eyes to tome torn me rn Gods GotIs May Iny she He lie over ever In His sight Folded roMed and guarded by b His loving the while she sho this earth of ot Thine ne GIve Olve me to hold and amI comfort Let Jet me look at nt her God GoJ this little while Let Iet me m but dream Thy Th little child chIllI Is 19 mine 6 0 6 If It Night should take you Oll tram from me lit little litlie lie tle one aile And nd the thi graves Ice should turn your red to prey gre While I J lonely lone still must stay Within the faded Summer and sad sun sunI I would not long to die but Just bo be belIn Kim KimI lIn lInI I live out my love I would not pray but light each difficult day Hani nil the tho dear days that were done doneIt If It It were well you would be near me meM med M d If It III m If IC 1 could never never neer touch Your our soul with finIf If love dies with the breath i liy till my m full fates stars wore wre sunk and pet Fel FelId Id hug hu my little hope and glorying much Would client chea t the dearest pang of at atI coming death I Saturday Evening Post I |
