[Written for the Sentinel]

Night Voices

Down purpled mountains evening sweeps,And through my window softly creepsThe light of stars which write on high,Across the zenith of the sky,God is Love.

The ocean's call, the wind's low sigh,Are sleeping nature's lullaby.They murmur o'er and o'er againIn accents low the sweet refrain,God is Love.

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January 29, 1916
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