Poem September 1, 1928 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Chains

ISLA PASCHAL RICHARDSON

Naught was ever gained by doubting,
Fear has never climbed a hill,
Ears attuned to evil's shouting
Miss the gentle, "Peace, be still."

Warriors overcome by cunning,
Conquered by Goliath's boast,
Saw a youth, unarmed, come running,
Meet and put to flight the host.

Chains that bind are mortals' making,
Phantom bonds that have no might.
Blessed freedom comes with waking—
Darkness vanishes with light!

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