[Written for the Sentinel]

Arising at Dawn

A little burden traveled through the air,
And as it flew from troubled heart to heart,
It grew and magnified each little care
Which mortal thought had made of it a part.

On, on it went, with weariness constrained
To rest betimes on clouds of gloomy gray;
And while it tarried, and as darkness waned,
A little angel thought passed by that way.

It touched the burden with its silvern wing
And, scarce perceiving aught but light and song,
Broke through the clouds where poised the dreary thing,
Dispelled the mists and gaily sped along.

The burden trembled as the doom of pain
Rang out in tones that thus made glad the night,
Then broke and fell to lifeless dust again,
And morning woke with only love and light.

A woman sat. Through hours of prayer and tears
A restless infant lay upon her knee.
At dawn, on wings of faith, surmounting fears,
She rose, to love and light and harmony.

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June 27, 1914
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