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POEMS BY CLARA A. MERRILL
Awfully solemn— Awfully mute—Sadly feels— Beat by Lute!
Walls of fame— Got Lute's name on—Poem complete— Bradbury Damon.
"By Gum! he's beaten us all!" they cried Between their tight—shut teeth; Then brushed away that pile of sand And saw what lay beneath! They cried "Let 's give three cheers for Lute! Of him we have learned this day If we can't succeed just as we wish We'll do it as we may."
Patrons, Friends:—Should aught arise within this Grange Which we don't understand; Let's look beneath the surface then, Let's clear away the sand.
