Harriet A. Adams

Capitolo 68

and soul to soul suggestively speaks.

The ocean has its fullness from tributary brooks to which you/they flow his
bed.

The lives they are great alone that you/he/she is prepared for being fed.






I CAPITULATE XII.





The soft foliage in summer changed to gold and red and the distant one
the hill-tops remained their brown tops against blue and sapphire
skies. A soft fog placed on the scene, almost entrancing to the
soul, while the seemed senses wound in that dream-cloud that
you confine the awakening and worlds rest.

Seven times made to address the cyprus to a gilded flame, close to the
serious of equitable Alice.

Seven times made to mention with the head on the pines the snow-white bed, under
what disposition his/her sacred dust.

Seven years had passed with their lights and shades, from when he placed
his/her form under of the green to cover with sod grassy-and he/she cried as only those you/he/she has cried,
of who light has gone out of their residence.

Rich and height it had these years been in their strange experiences,
while firm as a stone its faith was grown in the invisible one which the love
and defense is to round off us as the atmosphere it is on the earth.
It was alone a fact to not the feeling and he, that, although his/her Alice
you/he/she was passed above to a taller existence, its life was more clearly of
it ever mixed with his really. How bending and he/she barks, their souls seemed
fabric, and he would have doubted sooner his/her existence of material, that
doubts his/her daily presence.

The days grew richer in glory, thin to one to the time the dry leaves
him faded and it fell to the earth, as you protect ours brightest hopes they owe
is sometimes grown weak and fall. The sky was more dark color and more loweries. The air
lost his/her balmy softness, and it was sour and cold, you don't cultivate signal of
foliage was seen,--nothing but the branches pruned that they extend them
arm naked toward the sky. The lawns were brown and sad. The
silvery brooks rang out any happy song. Life was made to keep silent and still
without, while more cheerful it became the tones of happy hearts among