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- At Last
- by Elizabeth Akers Allen
- At last, when all the summer shine
- That warmed life’s early hours is past,
- Your loving fingers seek for mine
- And hold them close - at last - at last!
- Not oft the robin comes to build
- Its nest upon the leafless bough
- By autumn robbed, by winter chilled, -
- But you, dear heart, you love me now.
- Though there are shadows on my brow
- And furrows on my cheek, in truth, -
- The marks where Time’s remorseless plough
- Broke up the blooming sward of Youth, -
- Though fled is every girlish grace
- Might win or hold a lover’s vow,
- Despite my sad and faded face,
- And darkened heart, you love me now.
- I count no more my wasted tears;
- They left no echo of their fall;
- I mourn no more my lonesome years;
- This blessed hour atones for all.
- I fear not all that Time or Fate
- May bring to burden heart or brow, -
- Strong in the love that came so late,
- Our souls shall keep it always now.
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