A Quote by Augusta Joyce Crocheron on bitterness, duty, gold, heart, memory, music, past, sacred, sleep, and thought
Parting What brought it back to me? I thought that it had fled; Again I sit with thee And watch the twilight red. Far out upon the deep The full moon's light is thrown. This night thou must not sleep; Stay near me, O, my own! How hard for me to know That this must be the last; That duty's wave must flow O'er all the sacred past. Dear heart, what walls that rise Can bar out memory's view, Or hush the poor heart's sighs You'll know are breathed for you? So fair the moon will rise To other eyes than ours, That weep while bitter sighs Stay not the winged hours. Upon the radiant sight, Front out the thronged halls, Like requiem to-night, The entrancing music falls. At last the daylight makes, With rising shafts of gold, Each heart in parting breaks, And duty's wage is told.
Source: a collection of poems, Wild Flowers of Deseret
Contributed by: Zaady