THE SECRET.
Her life is one of sweet serenity Within the small New England town, and still Each year when summer pipes beyond the hill, And blossoms cling to every lilac tree, She makes a journey of a few short days, And by a grave at Gettysburg her tears Fling back the conquering legions of the years; Once more she wanders youth-enchanted ways Where young lips met, and young hearts trembled to The love-songs of the ages, while the trees
Stirred softly in the twilight-haunted bi'ecze,
And springtime stars awoke the deepening blue . . . “ A typical old maid,” the neighbours say— But oh, they know not her Memorial day! —Catherine Parmenter, in the Century.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW19281204.2.261.3
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 3899, 4 December 1928, Page 71
Word Count
113THE SECRET. Otago Witness, Issue 3899, 4 December 1928, Page 71
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