Kansas City Journal

Love Lives On.

I took from their hiding place last night
Your letters, sweetheart, and read:
And their passion thrilled in the waning light.
Though I said, "My love is dead."
But tears came back to my world worn eyes
As I thought of a golden June
And lovers who sang, Love never dies
While boats drift under the moon.

For white wings come, and white sails go,
Drifting out into the dawn:
But memory comes with refluent flow,
And it's true as ever it was, I know,
That love lives on and on.

It comes with the touch or the clasp of the hand,
Or the glance of a stranger's eye,
Or a kindly act in a foreign land,
Or the gleam of a starry sky,
Or a drifting boat on a silver lake,
Or a lily you touch with your oar,
Or the sound of the winds and waves that break
In melody on the shore.

But as long as white wings come and go,
Or drift in the rosy dawn,
While memory comes with refluent flow,
It is true as ever it was, I know,
That love lives on and on.

-Emma Playter Seabury, in Philadelphia Times.