[Written for the Sentinel]

Shadows

WHEN shadows fall, soft doth the evening foldHer veil of purple o'er the weary west,Homeward a swallow flies to guard its nestTill night is melted in the morning's gold.Thus through the hours that may seem dark and coldThe Father shields His children on His breast,Well knowing what each one hath need of best,Till all in Mind reality behold.

Rejoice, dear heart, for now the day is here!Though dark the night, glad doth the morning break;Love's light alike for all is shining clear,Then freely of its radiance partake,—So from the seeming shadows of the pastCome forth and see that only joy thou hast!

September 15, 1917
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