Page:The New-Year's Bargain (1884).djvu/14

8

I weave my fancies now for other ears,—
Thy sister-blossom's, who beside me sits,
Rosy, imperative, and quick to mark
         My lagging wits.

But still the stories bear thy name, are thine,
Part of the sunshine of thy brief, sweet day,
Though in her little warm and living hands
         This book I lay.

 

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