THE PASSER-BY
Step lightly across the floor,And somewhat more tender be.There were many that passed my door,Many that sought after me.I gave them the passing word—Ah, why did I give thee more?I gave thee what could not be heard,What had not been given before;The beat of my heart I gave....And I give thee this flower on my grave.My face in the flower thou mayst see.Step lightly across the floor.Edith M. Thomas
Step lightly across the floor,And somewhat more tender be.There were many that passed my door,Many that sought after me.I gave them the passing word—Ah, why did I give thee more?I gave thee what could not be heard,What had not been given before;The beat of my heart I gave....And I give thee this flower on my grave.My face in the flower thou mayst see.Step lightly across the floor.Edith M. Thomas
Step lightly across the floor,And somewhat more tender be.
Step lightly across the floor,
And somewhat more tender be.
There were many that passed my door,Many that sought after me.I gave them the passing word—Ah, why did I give thee more?I gave thee what could not be heard,What had not been given before;The beat of my heart I gave....And I give thee this flower on my grave.
There were many that passed my door,
Many that sought after me.
I gave them the passing word—
Ah, why did I give thee more?
I gave thee what could not be heard,
What had not been given before;
The beat of my heart I gave....
And I give thee this flower on my grave.
My face in the flower thou mayst see.Step lightly across the floor.
My face in the flower thou mayst see.
Step lightly across the floor.
Edith M. Thomas