III.
I stood among the gold corn, Alas! no more, I knew, To gather gleaner's measure Of the love that fell from you. For me, no gracious harvest-- Would God we ne'er had met! 'T is hard, Love, to remember, but 'T is harder to forget.
I stood among the gold corn, Alas! no more, I knew, To gather gleaner's measure Of the love that fell from you. For me, no gracious harvest-- Would God we ne'er had met! 'T is hard, Love, to remember, but 'T is harder to forget.