Tear-marks stain from page to page
This book my fathers left to me,-
So dull that nothing but its age
Were worth its freight across the sea.
But tear stains! When, by whom, and why?
Thus takes my fancy to its wings;
For grief is old, and one may cry
About so many things!
Tear Stains
John Charles Mcneill
(3)
Poem topics: grief, sea, book, worth, tear, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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