Poem February 2, 1946 Issue

A Shadow Leaves No Mark

ALICE TROXELL MC COUN

The fury of the wind has passed.
The pelting sleet lies still at last,
And through the drifting clouds, the sun
Is chasing shadows till they run
To native nothingness. And lo!
The deepest shadows when they go
Leave not a print upon the snow.

And human passions rise to thrash
Like blizzard winds that whip and lash.
But hid in Truth I calmly wait.
Before His love the mists abate
Till mental shadows they have cast
Are thinned to nothingness at last.
And lo! no marks when they have passed.