Poem March 19, 1910 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

OUR KNIGHT

ADA J. MILLER.

Surely he'd come, this knight, and like the king,
Arthur of old, redress the wrong and stand
For honor, justice, and for stainless truth!
In dream I saw him draw his sword,—the Word,
Before whose power wrong shrinks, abashed and pale,
Foreseeing doom in this one flash of light.

One came—but Modred he—not Arthur, king.
Like all the world, save only those who see
Beyond the glamour and the sheen of gold,
He paid his homage at the court of fame.

Awakened with a start, I saw my dream,
Like spirit of a rose plucked ruthlessly,
Pass shadowlike, but left was its perfume
To sweeten memory's growing treasure-store.
And then I saw that Arthur and his knights
No more wear human form, but here today they live
In Truth impersona,, that knows nor rich,
Nor poor, nor earthly rank, but only knows
That all must yield to changeless law of love,
Which rights all wrongs, knows justice only, and
The power supreme, omnipotent, of good.

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March 19, 1910
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