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Show ' The Consoler. Time tomes to grief as sleep to weariness. weari-ness. On silent sandals and with shadowy hair Sleep bends to sooth the fretful daytime day-time care, And Time unto my grief shall do no less, But yet a little and his hands shall press Above the weeping eyes and close them there, Above the trembling lips, till all despair de-spair Lies like a sleeping child in his caress. And when my sorrow wakes it will not be My sorrow any more, for I shall smile, Beholding it, to know it comforted; No sorrow, but a gentle memory That still may walk with me a little while. At twilight, or when April boughs are spread. Theodosia Garrison in the Cosmopolitan Cosmopoli-tan Magazine for August. |