Verses and Rhymes by the way
Spring came and went--the years went past; War ended, peace came round at last; But war might go, and peace might come, Rajotte thought not of turning home. Till, failing strength, and fading eye, He turned him homeward just to die. Perhaps although he felt it not, In his fierce wrestling with his lot, There was a drawing influence From the dear home so far away; And faithful prayers had risen from thence, To Him who hears us when we pray, Who watched the lonely waiting heart That nursed its love and faith apart; And, pitying her well borne pain, Ordained it should not be in vain.
Now turn we to Plant