Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

(1844-1911 / Andover, Massachusetts)

In Teeth Of Fate - Poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

Let us sit in our darkening weather,
Dear Heart! alone together
For a while,
And talk it all over bravely.
Nay, lift me not up that white, sweet smile;
We'll face what is coming bravely or gravely,-
But I cannot bear that smile.

No, I did not say the dying,
But those departing, flying
Far away,
Smile so. Come a little nearer!
I can better think what I had to say.
My darling, my darling! stay nearer, be dearer!
We will talk some other day.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 7, 2010

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