by James Whitcomb Riley
You think them "out of reach," your dead?
Nay, by my own dead, I deny
Your "out of reach."--Be comforted:
'Tis not so far to die.
O by their dear remembered smiles
And outheld hands and welcoming speech,
They wait for us, thousands of miles
This side of "out-of-reach."
Last updated September 28, 2015