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NO R TH CONWA Y.
��Seeking out now a stricken heart, Hands that shall softly move
The folded garments with the touch We give to things we love.
��O solemn garments, needed not !
O childish treasures, dearer far For wear of little baby-hands
Than jewels newly burnished are !
empty glove and kerchief smooth ! O idle shoe that treads no more
Life s measure to the tune of Time !
treasures dropped on Jordan s shore !
1 dream to-day as dreamers must ;
1 see dim shadows come, Claiming their own with smile and tear
As noisy wheels bring baggage home.
��NORTH CONWAY.
I HAVE seen a strain of music, I have listened with my eyes To a silent psalm of sunshine
Underneath the Conway skies. 15*
�� �
