The Year Of Grace

"L'année Ou nous nous sommes (ümis tant .','- MURCmt Ijist year the roses blooraed so red As red as tire, as llfe-blood dear. 80 red It never could be rlKlit ! The bodlug beurt wiihln me sald- 'They are so red, they raast be white Next Year! " LftHt year tbere was such waste of gold The yellow flowers grew so near The meadow's Rreen could scarcelr show; Yon gathered more thn yon could hold But spriim came sllver white wlth snow Tbis Year ! Now you may watch the pale moon rlse, And I may see the sunsets drear. All greens look grayer than befure : Ordo we see wlth other eyes? And not tigether any more Tbls Year!