Life
Speak not of life as a fitful song that dies
To a close nor deem it as a brief strife where
Sin is strong nor as a early born swift fading rose
But rather this a song who tender strain grows sweeter
Richer with the speeding years and softly blends
Into a clear refrain of higher voices as his welcomes near
Not strife where victory is won with guile and might alone
Holds balances of truth but battle where might wins
All things worthwhile where mercy waits with healing
And truth. Not as a rose soon blown but such a one as
Knows the rapture of the spring, the kiss of summer
Winds, the wooing of the sun and gives its life to seal
A lovers bliss. The lips of life are ever tipped with song
And twixt them lies a never dying rose through
Standards droop Righs arm is ever strong
And over the darkest night truths white star glows
One of my favourites
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