Martha Dickinson Bianchi

Forgiveness Lane

Forgiveness Lane is old as youth,
You cannot miss your way;
’T is hedged with flowering thorn forsooth
Where white doves fearless stray.

You must walk gently with your Love,        
Frail blossoms dread your feet—
And bloomy branches close above
Make heaven near and sweet.

Some lovers fear the stile of pride
And turn away in pain—        
But more have kissed where white doves hide
And blessed Forgiveness Lane!