FEEL OF THE WANDER-LURE.
My sandals are of starlight,
My soul has a flame,
And all the spheres along the sky
Are trumpeting my name.
My spirit, warm and eager,
And longing to be free,
Tired of a Shadow-house of Dreams,
Lured by immensity,
Will answer when the wild winds call
My name, on some dark night,
And I, a lone adventurer,
Will take the Road of Light.
OVERHEARD AT THE MONEY CHANGERS OF
NINEVEH.
Our Pilgrim sires—brief the story—
They planted and we reaped the glory;
Their simple thrift and noble deeds
We swapped for affluence and creeds;
Our bank account the trickster rifles,
Their Sabbath Day we sold for trifles;
They, wisdom-governed, graced creation,
Ill-timed and aimless, now a nation
Has bartered Freedom at its forum,
Where statesmen wait to find a quorum.