Survival

by Edith Wharton

  


WHEN you and I, like all things kind or cruel,

  The garnered days and light evasive hours,

  Are gone again to be a part of flowers

  And tears and tides, in life's divine renewal,

  If some grey eve to certain eyes should wear

  A deeper radiance than mere light can give,

  Some silent page abruptly flush and live,

  May it not be that you and I are there?


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