Is laid the body of my friend, the doom
Of silence on that matchless voice. Now girds
My spirit for the struggle he would praise.
A leader viewless to the mortal eye
Still guides my steps, still calls with clarion cry
To deeds of honor, and my thoughts would raise
To seek the truth and share the love on high.
With loyal heart I'll follow all my days.
NEW YEAR, 1919
The sifting sand that marks the passing year