Virna Sheard
For Death goes to and fro upon the earth
It follows in the wake of marching men ;
And we who knew the olden peace and mirth,
Will never, never, know the same again.
The scented wind across the boughs of May Brings but the memory of some yesterday.
And now our Saints are young, with starry eyes :
Age hath not set his mark on one of these. They are the Winged Victors of the skies ! The singing soldiers of our lands and seas ! Our very own our very own are they; We only lift our eyes to them to-day !
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��DREAMS
HEP thott thy dreams though joy should pass thee by;
Hold to the rainbow beauty of thy thought. It is for dreams that men will oft-times die,
And count the passing pain of death as nought.
Keep thou thy dreams, though faith should faint and fail, And time should loose thy fingers from the creeds :
The vision of the Christ will still avail To lead thee on to truth and tender deeds.
Keep thou thy dreams through all the winter s cold, When weeds are withered, and the garden grey;
Dream thou of roses with their hearts of gold,< Beckon to summers that are on their way.
Keep thou thy dreams the tissue of all wings Is woven first of them ; from dreams are made
The precious and imperishable things,
Whose loveliness lives on, and does not fade.
Keep thou thy dreams, intangible and dear
As the blue ether of the utmost sky, A dream may lift thy spirit past all fear,
And with the great, may set thy feet on high!
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