[Written for the Sentinel]

The Way

A valley fair before me lies,Far overhead are azure skies,The morning light is flooding;The air the joyous bird-song fills,At which my heart with rapture thrills;The waysides all are budding.

Returning warmth of noontide heightBathes all in wondrous radiance, white;All nature is alluring;Each moment more inviting seemsThe path, which leads by sparkling streams,And joy seem all-enduring.

September 22, 1928
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