From The Detroit Times, June 22, 1915. By W. J. P.
The lengthening shadows fall, and darkness sweepeth
Her saddened heart o’er all; full long she weepeth,
For he she loved has gone and left her sighing,
Alone, disgraced, undone—the day is dying.
She trusted, ah, too well. Would one had spoken
Ere she had sunk to hell, and now, heartbroken,
She dwells upon the past, her fate decrying,
The sunlight fades at last—the day is dying.
Receiving nought but scorn, by kin forsaken;
With pain and sorrow torn, by anguish shaken,
She, in her woeful plight, hope from her flying,
Awaits the coming night—the day is dying.
The night shades gather fast, the daylight fadeth,
A calm and peace at last her soul pervadeth;
Her heart sinks on her breast, hushed is her crying;
Her soul has found its rest—the day is dying.
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