Dusk has fallen, clouds cloak the darkened sky, a raindrop splatters and silently continues down the pane. As a hilltop gives view of the
landsceap, my view is not far different. Tonight is a night that novels hold for tears, but real life seldom holds to novels, and tonight we are warm.
There is a warm and gentle atmosphere
About the form of one we love, and
thus
As in a tender mist our spirits are
Wrapped in the of that which is to us
The health of life’s own life--
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