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Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs
Page 3
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WITHOUT THEE, DEAR There's something in the sentient air, A whispering through the leafless trees, A thousand tokens everywhere. What messengers are these? They are the heralds of the spring, They cry: "Rejoice, for spring is here !" But in my heart there is no spring Without thee, dear. The robin sings at early morn, Just as he sang one year ago, And when the twilight shadows fall He warbles sweet and low. The blue birds and the meadow larks I know sing just as sweet and clear - But something from their songs I miss Without thee, dear. The sunlight seems not half so bright. The flowers are not so sweet or fair, The earth has lost its radiant light- I miss thee everywhere! And now I know 'tis love that casts A halo round each object here. And life can never be the same Without thee, dear. -3-
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WITHOUT THEE, DEAR There's something in the sentient air, A whispering through the leafless trees, A thousand tokens everywhere. What messengers are these? They are the heralds of the spring, They cry: "Rejoice, for spring is here !" But in my heart there is no spring Without thee, dear. The robin sings at early morn, Just as he sang one year ago, And when the twilight shadows fall He warbles sweet and low. The blue birds and the meadow larks I know sing just as sweet and clear - But something from their songs I miss Without thee, dear. The sunlight seems not half so bright. The flowers are not so sweet or fair, The earth has lost its radiant light- I miss thee everywhere! And now I know 'tis love that casts A halo round each object here. And life can never be the same Without thee, dear. -3-
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