From The Birmingham Age Herald, March 10, 1914.
There’s a bloom upon her beauty
In her old dreams there,
In the corner by the window
In her old arm chair.
There is snow upon the ringlets
That were golden in a day
Ere the dreams were like the roses
That the years blow away.
There’s a glow of something lovely
In her person as of old,
And the tune her lips are crooning
Is as bright as virgin gold.
There’s a twinkle in her eyes yet,
And upon her lips a gleam,
As she sits beside the window,
In her old, old dream.
Ah, little snowy lady,
Would that time might never know
A moment you must vanish
As the dust the breezes blow.
For it’s such a gift of beauty
To behold you sitting there,
In the old dreams by the window
In your old arm chair.
Comments are closed.