Destination.blooms surround me, There were no urging voices in the spring, And when love clings with rap- turous arms around me I sometimes wish there were no reckoning. Unhand, unhand, all loves that would detain me The road is clear, though sharp its flinty sting, Have I not washed your feet unto the parting, And would you make a servant of a king? __Elizabeth N. Barr. |
The High Winds of Home
Elizabeth N. Barr
(Olathe: privately published. 1922)
Page 10
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