BY IVA MAY TERRY.
The Blind Poetess of Green Island.
Beneath the white snowflakes
So downy and deep,
The dear little flowers
Are lying asleep.
Birds’ voices are silent,
No sound can be heard,
Save that of the breezes
When treetops are stirred.
The moon in its splendor
Is shining o’er all,
Stars beaming so tender
Let their soft light fall.
How sweet is the stillness
That God has ordained,
To lighten our burdens
And lessen our pain.
But soon the warm sunshine
Will rouse all the streams,
Then songbirds and flowers
Will wake from their dreams.
Our hearts will be happy,
We also like they
Will fly in our fancy
To woodlands away.
How great is the pleasure
That we will derive
When we watch the birdies
Their small nests contrive.
These dear little creatures
Our Father has sent
To teach us the lessons
Of love and content.
Troy Times. February 23, 1910
Christopher K. Philippo
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