Poem March 28, 1908 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

RAIN ON THE BEACH

WARWICK JAMES PRICE.

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

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

But lessons ring us in on every hand,
And he with eyes clear-visioned for the good,
Sees, back of dreary dunes and sodden sands,
God's waters mingling in their brotherhood.

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