James Whitcomb Riley

From the Headboard of a Grave in Paraguay

A troth, and a grief, and a blessing,
Disguised them and came this way—,
And one was a promise, and one was a doubt,
And one was a rainy day.
 
And they met betimes with this maiden,
And the promise it spake and lied,
And the doubt it gibbered and hugged itself,
And the rainy day—she died.
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