The yester is done,
the circle begins anew
Uncounted blessings and true friends,
Not just a few,
Glory becomes the rosy dawn,
Mingles the grass with dew,
Steady the shade of love,
sometimes shaken, never askew
Death awaits, bides its time,
Despair and Pain its eager crew,
Tis till then that all is well
And the heart still beats its lovely tune.
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