Chapter 18
A Lament by Radcliffe Hall. Read for Librivox.org by Christine Layman. Like a song that is sung, like a tale that is told, The life in me hushes the voice of its gladness. Youth walks by my side, but his hands have grown cold, and deep in his eyes lurks the shadow of sadness. Alas for the flowers that never come to me! Alas for the morning again now day closes. The joy of a love is as nothing, for through me there
passes the deep wounding thorn of the roses.
