Poem January 6, 1912 ISSUE

[Written for the Sentinel.]

"NOT TO THE SWIFT."

WARWICK JAMES PRICE.

Last night, in the city's heavy heat,My ears were filled with the weary droneOf sullen sound from the restless street,Telling in ceaseless monotoneOf unending struggle for wordly place,Of the feverish fight for empty pelf,With the only meeds of the headlong raceThe wages of sin and the shackles of self.

Tonight the psalm of the pulsing seaSpeaks calm and clear of a duty done,Fulfilling the tasks of His decree,With no pause or question, from sun to sun.No envious, empty effort here,No human will, perverse and blind,No man-made planning, no halting fear,But the power and poise and peace of Mind.

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January 6, 1912
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