When I crept over the hill, broken with tears. <br />When I crouched down on the grass, dumb in despair, <br />I heard the soft croon of the wind bend to my ears, <br />I felt the light kiss of the wind touching my hair. <br /> <br />When I stood lone on the height my sorrow did speak, <br />As I went down the hill, I cried and I cried, <br />The soft little hands of the rain stroking my cheek, <br />The kind little feet of the rain ran by my side. <br /> <br />When I went to thy grave, broken with tears, <br />When I crouched down in the grass, dumb in despair, <br />I heard the sweet croon of the wind soft in my ears, <br />I felt the kind lips of the wind touching my hair. <br /> <br />When I stood lone by thy cross, sorrow did speak. <br />When I went down the long hill, I cried and I cried. <br />The soft little hands of the rain stroked my pale cheek, <br />The kind little feet of the rain ran by my side.<br /><br />Dora Sigerson Shorter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-comforters-2/
