The Ribbon

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Title:     The Ribbon
Author: Helen Hay Whitney [More Titles by Whitney]

Ah, dearest, dearest, not alone
I face the day's white monotone.
The fair, bright ribbon of the hours--
A mountain brook bestead through flowers--
Runs, a dear line, from you to you.
There is no smallest deed I do
Through which the ribbon does not run,
A silver string to pearls of sun.
So glad I watch the moments fly
Across the high-hung summer sky,
Till in a radiant flame they burn,
To mark the hour of your return.

[The end]
Helen Hay Whitney's poem: Ribbon

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