Poem October 30, 1909 ISSUE

[Written for the Sentinel.]

RECOMPENSE

LILLA ELLEN BOWLEY.

Gone! all the struggle and the vain regret.Gone, with the hope I strove for and could not attain.Gone, like the childish dream about a joy; and yetThe dream was not the real desire, deep-hidden in my heart by painAnd all the surface jangle of a mimic life.

Vain words! that could not hint my soul's true speech;Vain efforts to arrest the freezing touch of hate;Vain tears! dropped on the frosted pane;they could not reachThe heart of winter, but they thawed the ice which lateObscured a fairer vision from my longing eyes.

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AMONG THE CHURCHES
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