LOVE.
Love is the filling from one's own Another’s cup; Love is a daily laying down And taking up. A choosing of the stony path Through each new day, That other feet may tread at ease The smoother way. Love is not blind, hut looks abroad Through other eves And asks not, “Must l give?” but “Slav I sacrifice?” Love hides its grief, that other hearts And lips may sing : And, burdened, walks that other lives May. buoyant, wing. Sinner, hast thou a love: like this Within thv soul? ’Twill change thv name to saint, ere thou Hast reached thv goal. Pauline Frances Camp.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19180318.2.39
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White Ribbon, Volume 23, Issue 273, 18 March 1918, Page 10
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104LOVE. White Ribbon, Volume 23, Issue 273, 18 March 1918, Page 10
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