|How still she lay and smiled at us
Throughout that golden August day!
While 'round her bed the wistful flowers
Made passing sweet those quiet hours___
And she as sweet and white as they.
Upon her brows, of pain clean-swept,
There lay no trace of years long spent.
Beneath her parted silvery hair
Her face shone almost girlish fair
With such a look of deep content.
It was as if at break of day
One straight from Paradise had stepped
Into her room with swift release,
And for her sufferings given peace___
"Beauty for ashes." So she slept.
The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)