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Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs
Page 9
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MY SISTER If I had the tongue of a poet I would sing of a sister's love Unselfish, sustaining, enfolding -- Like the sunshine that falls from above. If I had the skill of an artist, I would picture that dear sister's face, And show you her beautiful spirit In all of its beauty and grace. The hands that have toiled for my comfort, The eyes that have seen for us two. The voice that bids me take courage The heart that it beating so true. But I'm only a stammering rhymester Whose verses will falter and fail-- And my pictures are only in fancy, Their colors to others are pale. Burt some day the angels in Heaven Will sing to that sister of mine. A song that shall tell of her goodness And of love that is kin to divine ! -9-
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MY SISTER If I had the tongue of a poet I would sing of a sister's love Unselfish, sustaining, enfolding -- Like the sunshine that falls from above. If I had the skill of an artist, I would picture that dear sister's face, And show you her beautiful spirit In all of its beauty and grace. The hands that have toiled for my comfort, The eyes that have seen for us two. The voice that bids me take courage The heart that it beating so true. But I'm only a stammering rhymester Whose verses will falter and fail-- And my pictures are only in fancy, Their colors to others are pale. Burt some day the angels in Heaven Will sing to that sister of mine. A song that shall tell of her goodness And of love that is kin to divine ! -9-
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