A Woman's Hand

By Amos Russel Wells

Soft and tender, smooth and white,
Formed for winning and delight,
Nature has no lovelier sight,—
A woman’s hand.

Wrinkled, worn with much to do,
Many a task for me and you,
In all trials good and true,—
A woman’s hand.

Clasping ours through life and death,
Lovingly to latest breath,
Sweetest thing that comforteth,—
A woman’s hand.

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