Death could not hold your love away from me.
Though it should close and bolt its heavy door,
You would come winging back, and joyously
Together--through the years--out hearts would soar.
Beside the moonlit river, I would hear
Your voice in words of love still speaking low;
Each winding country lane would bring you near;
Cicada call; the sunset's flaming glow;
Our garden where we dreamed at close of day;
Our path of stepping stones, a rainbowed sky;
The little church, the killdeer's plaintive lay;
The music of a new-born infant's cry.
So would you live and be with me each hour--
Upon love's memories, death can wield no power.
The Improvement Era