Highlighting a beautiful poem by Elizabeth Akers Allen
“At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life’s early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close — at last — at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled, —
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my…