[Written for the Sentinel.]


The sky is blue, deep blue again—
The wild gray sky I knew so well,
Locked in its armor of cloud and snow;
Where Viking blasts raged high and fell,
Calmness broods and daffodils blow,
And tender buds of April swell.

The earth is awake, awake again—
The dark, silent paths I wandered through.
Under the honeyed gold of the sun
Hills and meadows are born anew.
Sea and sky in joyance are one,
And the liquid lay of the lark is due.

My heart is young, is young again—
My heart where shadows were wont to cling.
Peace is within and pinions of gold,
Light and the promise of fragrancing,
And the sweet, sweet petals of faith unfold—
Blossoms of Love's immortal Spring.

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From our Exchanges
March 31, 1906

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