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The Vigil

By: Ardis E. Parshall - October 31, 2013

The Vigil

By Elsie Chamberlain Carroll

The walls are looped with cobwebs;
Each window shade’s awry;
The fire-grate is broken;
The shrubs outside are dry.

A smell of musty dankness
Pervades the lonesome air,
But I feel a something precious
That still is lingering there.

This was a home – a sanctum –
Where a spirit came to be,
Composed of part of each of us
Who were a family.

And so, tonight, returning,
Alone, reluctantly,
I find that spirit waiting
And bless its permanency.

(1949)



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