Labor not in the murky dell,
But till your harvest hill at morn;
Stoop to no words that, rank and fell,
Grow faster than the rustling corn.
With gladdening eyes go greet the sun,
Who lifts his brow in varied light;
Bring light where'er your feet may run:
So bring a day to sorrow's night.
Zest
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
(1)
Poem topics: night, sorrow, sun, Valentine's Day, light, bring, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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