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