The Friend
Through the dark wood
There came to me a friend,
Bringing in his cold hands
Two words--'The End.'
His face was fair
As fading autumn flowers,
And the lost joy
Of unforgotten hours.
His voice was sweet
As rain upon a grave;
'Be brave,' he smiled.
And yet again--'be brave.'
There came to me a friend,
Bringing in his cold hands
Two words--'The End.'
His face was fair
As fading autumn flowers,
And the lost joy
Of unforgotten hours.
His voice was sweet
As rain upon a grave;
'Be brave,' he smiled.
And yet again--'be brave.'
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.