  July 12, 1888. When lingering Day at last recedes from sight, And Night comes slowly forth to fill her place, Preceded by a twilight-hour's loved face Reflecting glorious rays of sunset light, 'Tis then my thoughts go wandering with delight Through oft-frequented avenues of space To those dear souls—the dearest of the race— Who've dwelt with me on friendship's purest height. My large souled trusted friend of many a year, With birthday greetings of the roseate hue Left by a perfect Day just lingering here. Oh, may life's twilight hold a peace as true, And be as filled with hope of dawn's sweet cheer! Mount Wachusett, Mass. |
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