by Winifred Rawlins
Do not go wrathfully
Nor with appraising eye;
The world is far too dear,
Too swift, to cloud its poignancy.
So little serves to break
The cords of tenderness;
We are too close to death
To chide one another.
Do not draw down regret
Upon the fragile day;
Even a sigh can halt
Its life which flows so trustingly.
What comes is too beloved,
No change can be for good;
We have no time but now
To cherish each other.
from her collection Fire Within.
© 1959, published by The Golden Quill Press. All rights reserved.