LINES
Reading edition
TO MRS. G. R. GRAHAM.
———
BY R. T. CONRAD.
———
May not, in this sweet season, my meek prayer
Rise near thine own? It is a prayer for thee,
Gentle and pure, affectionate and fair,
God guard thee ever! and around thee be
Blessings like rays! Thine is a heart to throw
A noble reflex from a manly mate,
To give his loftiest pulse a loftier glow,
And shed o’er all his path a purer fate.
Gentle as thou art may thy summers be!
Sweet as thy voice and gentle as thy smile!
And hopes that know no winter give to thee
All that is sweetest, surest! all that, while
The clouded earth obscures, has power to light
The soul upon that path that never knows a night.