Sarah A. Heinzerling

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Poems

My Friend Is Dead

My friend is dead! I shall not see her face again, Or hear her soothing voice When I need The comfort of kind words; I shall not meet her on the street; She will not come To visit me at home; My friend is dead! Yet, still she lives, And moves serenely through the halls, The winding, hidden halls Of Memory. Her smile is pictured there As I last saw it, Etched on my brain

Sarah A. Heinzerling

The Pines

Go walk the columned arcades of the pines, Where giant trees in lofty grandeur loom, Like mighty men who, fearless, meet their doom; Mark well the beauty of their stately lines, Set by the hand of God in rare designs; Breathe that rich fragrance floating through the gloom, As incense rising in some holy room; Behold the radiance that shines: Then pause, and weep, because man in his greed For greater gain, kills, not a single tree, But in his money madness has decreed The death of forests. You, that love to see The splendor of the pines, weep for each friend Whom avarice dooms to swift, untimely end.

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