Page:Poems Argent.djvu/20

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8
POEMS.
The poor, the helpless, and the sad,
      With stricken breast,
Cling to her lovingly, as if
      Her touch brought rest.

Dear saintly woman, loved by all,
      Who long hath trod
Life's pathway—she, our Dora, is
      The gift of God!

The other soul of whom I write
      Is lowly born,
A violet in a shady nook,
      Just kissed by morn.

She fills her place as best she may
      With loving zeal,
A woman of self-sacrifice
      Whose faith is real!

In friendship's bonds these two are knit,
      Their minds are one,
The selfsame beauty breathes for them
      In flower and sun.

Position's gulf seems stranded o'er
      By outstretched hands.
Love parts the icy barrier with
      Strong arms and bands!