To one who goes and leaves the other here. Yet death will entertain his own, I think. When one of us must go and one must stay! E SO MANY WAYS. I. ARTH has so many ways of being fair: Its sweet young Spring, its Summer clothed in light, Its regal Autumn trailing into sight As Summer wafts her last kiss on the air. Uttered by every subtle voice of May; And the strange wonder of the mighty sea, II. Love has so many ways of being sweet. When the strong billows from the deeper main Submerge the valleys of the incomplete. The restless passion rising into peace; The growing beauty of two paths that blend When love, unconquered, triumphs over death. THE PROTEST. AID the great machine of iron and wood, "Lo, I am a creature meant for good." I would lift men's burdens and lighten their woe If owned by the people, the whole wide earth No man should hunger, and no man labour To fill the purse of an idle neighbour; And each man should know when his work was done, I am forced by the few with their greed for gain, A THE SNOWFLAKE. LL sheltered by the mother-cloud It saw the city's seething crowd, It saw the shining town. "How fair and far those steeples rise To greet us, mother dear! It is so lovely in the skies, "The south wind says the merry earth Is full of life and glow; I long to mingle with its mirth- The mother-cloud reached out her arm, "Oh, little flake," quoth she, "The earth is full of sin and harm, Bide here, bide here, with me." But when the pale cloud-mother slept. The north wind whispered "Fly!" And from her couch the snowflake crept And tiptoed down the sky. |