Was in our souls, and on our polls the hateful ugliness.
We faced a fine barrage of sticks; and six “broke-up” kanats
Went home to meet the storm in six brown battered boxer hats.
THE LIBEL
“The flowers have no scent, and the birds have no song,”
We read in the lesson before us,
While carols enchanted came floating along,
And lifted our hearts in the chorus.
“The landscape is sombre, and dreary, and gray,
No colour its mantle adorning”;