Poem May 10, 1930 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Building

RUTH D. SMITH

I builded me an house.
Much worldly wisdom formed its base;
Its massive walls were held in place
By trust in self and pride of power:
Ambition crowned its lofty tower.

And so I built. It far outstripped
The first mark set for height of it.
My pride increased. I thought to show
My brother that he built too slow
And carefully. My house would stand
A thing of beauty in the land,
My handiwork! I turned to look,
But as I turned, the building shook;
I saw its massive walls give way;
It crumbled like a thing of clay.
I bowed my head. Beneath the sky
That domed my house, dust mounted high!
My loss was more than I could bear;
My anger rose, then, in despair
I cried aloud, It is not just
For years to harvest ruin, rust!

A silence followed. Suddenly
The master Builder questioned me:
The house, why did it fall? what feat
Has made the ruin so complete?

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