But that was years ago; to-day the notes
Of wild free song have left her silver streets;
Her blazoned banner now no longer floats
In aureate folds, no more the sunrise greets;
She lives but in a past so strong and brave
It serves alike for monument and grave.
THE WHITE CANOE
THERE'S a whisper of life in the gray dead trees,
And a murmuring wash on the shore,