Posted by: aboutalbion | July 15, 2012

Poetry

At Last

At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life’s early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close – at last – at last!

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.

I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow, –
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!

[Elizabeth Akers Allen – abridged]

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