Poetry of Kansas

The Years

    Softly, swiftly,
        The light years pass,___
    Fugitive as shadows
        On the grass.

 
Youth was their first gift, gallantly free;
Love was the gift they denied to me.
Grief was their great gift, bitterly clean___
Yet there is their last gift, cool, serene.
 
    Swiftly, softly,
        The gray years fall.
    I shall hold their last gift
        Worth them all.

The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Page 66

 
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November 2, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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