Poem October 3, 1908 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

THE REAL WORLD

MAXWELL ARMFIELD

When all the ways were gold with sheaves,
Or green within a patterned tent
(Where the blue came between the leaves),
I sometimes thought myself content.

But soon the golden sheaves were gone,
The green ways withered into gray,
And through the bare brown twigs there shone
The pale sky of a wintry day.

And then I thought, the loveliness
Of gold, and deep green-patterned blue,
Were threadbare places in earth's dress,
With God's real world seen faintly through.

And sometimes, brushed by angels' wings
(Fair thoughts of Truth and Life and Love),
I am made sure of perfect things
No human logic can disprove.

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October 3, 1908
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