Elizabeth Akers Allen Quotes

Up the sky in silence holy
Comes the young moon slowly, slowly,
Softly with her light divine,
Filling, like a cup with wine.

Dawn of a brighter, whiter day
Than ever blessed us with its ray,—
A dawn beneath whose purer light all guilt and wrong shall fade away.

I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.

Behold, we live through all things,—famine, thirst,
Bereavement, pain; all grief and misery,
All woe and sorrow; life inflicts its worst
On soul and body,—but we can not die.
Though we be sick, and tired, and faint, and worn,—
Lo, all things can be borne!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,—
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—
Take them and give me my childhood again!

The wind is full of memories;
It whispers low and clear
The sacred echoes of the past,
And brings the dead more near.

O flowers! the soul that faints or grieves
New comfort from your lips receives;
Sweet confidence and patient faith are hidden in your leaves.

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for to-night!