[Written for the Sentinel.]

RAIN ON THE BEACH

The clouds hang low, like veils of drifting smoke,With passing, steam-like flurries, showing whiteAgainst the dripping heavens' misty cloak,The more impressive in its silent might.

The pools, which mirrored childhood's keel and sparOn sunny yesterdays, are left alone;The great waves moaning on the outer bar,Sound faintly in their muffled monotone.

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FROM OUR EXCHANGES
March 28, 1908
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