when the sun is low

The song that is old, but that once he loved
 Somewhere in the long ago,
Means more to the singer than newer songs
 With all of their fire and glow.
The valueless gift in the attic trunk,
 Though romance and youth be lost,
Means more to the person who put it there
 Than treasures of higher cost.
The love that has lasted through years of pain,
 Though wounded and worn and old,
Contains more of heaven than younger loves,
 Without the stern test, can hold.
The song and the gift that are cherished so,
 And love that through time endures
Mean more in the end, when the sun is low,
 Than all of life's bright new lures.

 -Mary Frances Edwards