THE CHORD AND THE FLOWER

MARY J. ELMENDORF.

The gray mists rose from the river,
The white mists rose from the sea,
And, inland swirling in silence,
They swallowed the shore and the lea
Till they isled in their hungry billows
The lonely heart of me.

But a little white chord of music
And a little white flower of prayer
Came forth from my heart — from the garden
That God had planted there ;
And they spilled their sweets like the roses
On the cold and somber air.

"Ye cannot stay," said the music,
"O mists, where the warm winds start !"
"Ye cannot blur," said the flower,
"The light that of love is part !"
And, lo, the wind, like a message,
And the sun uprose in my heart !

"Go back to your dearth and your silence,
O mists !" said the little white chord ;
"Go back," said the prayer, "to your darkness !
Go back, ye powerless horde !"
And, lo, in my heart an angel
Stood guard with a flaming sword !

So the mists went back to the river,
The mists went back to the sea,
The blue unlocked the morning
With a turn of its golden key,
And the little white chord of music
And the prayer came home to me.

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