UNDER THE TENDRIL'S FATE. NDER the snow in the dark and the cold, A pale little sprout was humming; Sweetly it sang, 'neath the frozen mold, Of the beautiful days that were coming. "How foolish your songs," said a lump of clay, But under the ice and under the snow "Birds, and blossoms, and buzzing bees, Bloom on the meadows and buds on the trees, A pebble spoke next: "You are quite absurd,' For I never saw a tree or a bird, So of course there are none in existence." "But I know, I know," the tendril cried, In beautiful sweet unreason; Till lo! from its prison, glorified, It burst in the glad spring season. THE TIMES. HE times are not degenerate. TH Man's faith Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling creed Can take from the immortal soul the need Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth. Man may not worship at the ancient shrine And knows himself a something all divine; Not loud his prayers, as in the olden time, But deep his reverence for that mighty force, That occult working of the great All-Source, Which makes the present era so sublime. Religion now means something high and broad, And man stood never half so near to God. THE QUESTION. ESIDE us in our seeking after pleasures, B Through all our restless striving after fame, Through all our search for worldly gains and reasures, There walketh one whom no man likes to name. Silent he follows, veiled of form and feature, Indifferent if we sorrow or rejoice, Yet that day comes when every living creature When that day comes to you, and Death. unmasking, Shall bar your path, and say, "Behold the end," What are the questions that he will be asking About your past? Have you considered, friend? I think he will not chide you for your sinning, Nor for your creeds or dogmas will he care; He will but ask, "From your life's first beginning How many burdens have you helped to bear?" SORROW'S USES. HE uses of sorrow I comprehend TH Better and better at each year's end. Deeper and deeper I seem to see Why and wherefore it has to be. Only after the dark, wet days Do we fully rejoice in the sun's bright rays. Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast The faintest cheer sounds never amiss To one who the sadness of freedom knows, Light seem the fetters love may impose. And he who has dwelt with his heart alone, So better and better I comprehend T IF. WIXT what thou art, and what thou wouldst be, let No "If" arise on which to lay the blame. Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim. Thou wilt be what thou couldst be. Circumstance "If" is the motto of the dilettante Know not the word, or know it but to scorn, |