You were so long in coming: it is late
And I am weary at the close of day.
Forgotten are the promises of May,
And lilies droop beside a sagging gate.
Save for the whim of a capricious fate,
We might have walked together hand in hand
When spring was warm upon a wakening land
And life was new. Oh, why then did you wait?
Yet had we met while still impatiently
My eager feet were running down the years,
Would younger eyes, undisciplined by tears,
Have had the wit, in earlier days, to see
What now I see beyond a closing door?
Would I have known you had you come before?
The author of this piece, Mary Pavey, was born in 1905. She taught elementary school, married a farmer, raised twelve children, and wrote poetry. Mary's unpublished work has been read and loved by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren for over 60 years. We dearly love Mary’s vibrant and generous heart, and her spirit is fully alive in her poems.
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