by: Louise Morgan Sill
- HEN Spring
came down the lane that year,
- That sorrowing year,
- I saw her in a sombre mist--
- She whom the sun had newly kissed--
- As through a cloudy tear.
- I sighed and bent my drooping head,
- My weary head,
- And must it be like this? I cried,
- Oh, better sooner to have died
- Than be, though living, dead!
- But as I looked upon her face,
- Her heaven-born face,
- And saw the blossoms' snowy blur
- Against the roseate glow of her,
- I yielded to that grace--
- And I forgot the wound of pain,
- Of cruel pain,
- Remembering, come joy or woe,
- That winter dies, and blossoms blow,
- And Peace comes back again.
MORE POEMS BY LOUISE MORGAN SILL
"Remembering" is reprinted
from Poet Lore, Volume XXVII, Summer 1916, Number III.