[Written for the Sentinel.]

RECOMPENSE

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.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Article
AMONG THE CHURCHES
October 30, 1909
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit