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Show THE BOOK OF YEARS. IN fcleep I turned tho volumo of my yearn. The leaves woro many, rough and solld and marred, And here and thoro a lino was blurred blur-red and scarred Whore to uraso It I had tried with tears. No page was perfoot, but through all thoro ran Fair lines and many spacos white and clear. Ah, urnall thoy wore, tho blotted lines too near. But each showed where a higher thought began! Unknowingly I traced theso pages inter- lined. I thought them but loose leaves soon torn and lost. I knew not then the tears which they should cost When In the western sky my sun declined. de-clined. Could I but write them now how fair they all should look When the great angel comes to cloao and seat my book! ' " ' Ninette M. Lowater. |