This section is from the book "Herbs And Apples", by Helen Hay Whitney. Also available from Amazon: Herbs and Apples.
The little one who loved the sun
Who only lived for play,
Ah, why was she the one condemned
To dark and dreams for aye!
The perfect perfume of her life
Was as a rose's breath,
And now she treads eternally
The gusty walks of Death.
Helen Hay Whitney, poems, literature, love
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Last modified Tue Jul 7 17:55:33 2015