Mary M. Coughlin Poems

I missed the soft, gentle rains of April.
I did not hear the robin nestlings
Calling for their daily fare.
I did not see the early violets
...

Gentle Lord, Oh Prince of Peace,
Grant that soon all wars will cease.
Listen to the children crying.
Listent to the grown folks sighing.
...

A lovely sight, when cold winds blow,
Are downy flakes of falling snow
Which deck the earth with glist'ning gems,
And crowns it with a diadem.
...

The ominous sky was a stage that day.
The wind controlled the curtain of clouds
That hid the stage from view.
We could not see the strange ballet
...