Florence Vida Bowers Poems

Down the gorge the river rushes
Like a foam-flecked steed
Urged on by an unseen rider
Ever faster and n'er giving heed
...

In the air there's a hint of the season ahead
That is already crouched at the door
The flowers are asleep in their little earth beds
And brown and bare is the moor
...

As we stand with faith and gratitude
On the threshold of the day
That will usher in a bright new world
The one for which we pray
...