Next Door

We saw the tapers burn
In the home so close to ours;
But however our hearts might yearn,
We dared not send our flowers.
'He will not understand,' we said,
'Our loving thought of his loved dead.'

O City! Thus you hide
The pity in every heart!
Those who are at our side
You sunder a world apart.
A little barrier built of stone--
And my neighbor grieves--alone, alone!

by Charles Hanson Towne

Other poems of CHARLES HANSON TOWNE (106)

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