File:Lyrics and love songs (1916) (14778707024).jpg

Identifier: lyricslovesongs00pike (find matches)
Title: Lyrics and love songs
Year: 1916 (1910s)
Authors: Pike, Albert, 1809-1891 Roome, Mrs. Lilian (Pike) ed. (from old catalog)
Subjects:
Publisher: Little Rock, Ark., F. W. Allsopp
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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and to edit the prose writings, publishing the entire col-lection as the Life and Works of General Albert Pike.Mr. Allsopp assured me of his entire accord with theseviews, and the present edition is the result of our heartyco-operation. I thought it would be a good plan to havethe Life and Recollections precede the prose writings, andI hope the public will approve of this innovation. Theannouncement of the forthcoming edition, with the full lifeand prose writings, in addition to the complete collectionof his poems, was heartily welcomed by the friends andadmirers of my father in every section of the country, whichhas been a great encouragement to me in such an importantundertaking. I have been specially careful to nothingextenuate nor aught set down in malice, and have editedthe writings with the utmost care and conscientiousness;and the readers may rely upon the absolute correctness ofany statement made by me as of my own knowledge. LILIAN PIKE ROOME,Washington, D. C, April 15, 1916.
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EVERY YEAR. Life is a count of losses, Every year;For the weak are heavier crosses, Every year;Lost Springs with sobs replyingUnto weary Autumns sighing.While those we love are dying. Every year. The days have less of gladness. Every year;The nights more weight of sadness. Every year;Fair Springs no longer charm us.The winds and weather harm us,The threats of Death alarm us, Every year. There come new cares and sorrows. Every year;Dark days and darker morrows, Every year;The ghosts of dead loves haunt us,The ghosts of changed friends taunt us,And disappointments daunt us. Every year. To the Past go more dead faces. Every year;As the loved leave vacant places, Every year; —7— Everywhere the sad eyes meet us,In the evenings dusk they greet us,And to come to them entreat us.Every year. You are growing old, they tell us, Every year;You are more alone, they tell us, Every year;You can win no new affection,You have only recollection,Deeper sorrows and dejection,Every year. Too true!—L

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