Poem March 28, 1936 Issue

Liberation

MABLE I. CLAPP

GRAY was the day, and wearisome the task,
A dull monotony, an endless round.
And is this all of life? I could but ask;
Is beauty dead, and cannot joy be found?

Then through the sullen storm clouds came the sun,
And weary thought was lifted to behold
Each humble leaf adorned with sparkling gems,
A leaden day transformed to green and gold.

And suddenly my fettered sense stood free,
Free from the thralldom of a false duress;
With blinded eyes unveiled that I might see
God spread a table in the wilderness.

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From a letter dated 1896