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Show THE GRAY NUN. (By Virginia Bloren Harrison.) Theie comes, each dying day, to bless, A little while before the night, A gentle nun in convent dress Of clinging robes, all gray and white. She lays her cool hand on my face And smooths the lines of care away Her tender touch, with magic grace, Dispels the worries of the day. She folds the mystic curtain by Which hides from view the shadowy throng, And gives me those for whornM sigh, The vanished friends for whom I long. Sometimes she brings a perfumed spray Of flowers that bloomed long years ago, The breath of Summers laid away 'Neath many a Winter's drifted snow. jl No other guest gives such delight, Nor can of peace bestow the same, Aa she, who comes 'twixt day and night, And Twilight is the gray nun's name. New York Herald. |