Poem April 30, 1921 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

The Messenger

INEZ CAMPBELL

On a bare gray bough as gray as my heart,
A little bird did sing.
What is the message you impart?
I begged of the tiny thing.

How can you be so blithe and gay,
When all my world seems wrong?
Even the leaves have fallen away,
And yet you sing your song.

Then a note sublime reached my sad thought,
Joy's meaning to reveal:
This mortal sense God hath not wrought;
Eternal peace is real.

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April 30, 1921
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