Poetry by Rose O'Neale Greenhow

PRESENTIMENTS

There is a feeling of the heart
A dreary sense of coming evil
That bids all mirthful thoughts depart
And sends enjoyement to the d---l

A cloud that bodes the coming storm
And partly wraps the heart in sorrow
And bids our feelings bright and warm
Prepare a shroud upon the morrow

When all is sunshine to the soul
It turns its brightest hour to sadness
And grief with misty clouds will roll
Above the sunniest scenes of sadness