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?

Add Survival to your library.

Return to the Edith Wharton library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Bread of Angels