Not the soul that's whitest
Wakens love the sweetest:
When the heart is lightest
Oft the charm is fleetest.
Not the soul that's whitest
Wakens love the sweetest:
When the heart is lightest
Oft the charm is fleetest.
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font; The fire-fly wakens waken thou with me.
Such souls, Whose sudden visitations daze the world, Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind A voice that in the distance far away Wakens the slumbering ages.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories