Poem July 23, 1938 Issue

"If thou strayest ..."*

LEILA SMITH GRIFFITH

Dark are the clouds that hover o'er my head,
Fiercely the angry, stormy winds rush by:
The night draws on apace, night filled with dread
Of unknown ill from yon foreboding sky.
The path is rough, my strength is almost gone,
No comrade walks beside me up the hillside lone.

So different now, from scenes of early morn!
Then, radiant skies, the voice of singing bird,
The verdant vale, where lilies did adorn
The whole fair plain, and only joy was heard.
And love and peace walked with me, to impart
Power and strength to this now fainting heart.

What caused the change? Where is the peaceful plain?
How have I wandered from the beaten track?
From mountaintop there comes this clear, sweet call:
List for the mountain horn; it calls thee back.
The Stranger's voice! My guide and friend at last!
And now through murk and gloom rings out one silvery blast.

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