Author Georgia Douglas Johnson A little hour of sunshine, A little while of joy, We winnow in our harvesting From all the world's alloy. None, none, are so benighted, Who journey up life's hill, But have some treasured memory, Which lives all vibrant still. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments