HER FRUITS
BY
MARY ELEANOR ROBERTS
These are her fruits, kindness and gentleness,
And gratefully we take them at her hands;
Patience she has, and pity for distress,
And love that understands.
Ah, ask not how such rich reward was won,
How sharp the harrow in the former years,
Or mellowed in what agony of sun,
Or watered with what tears.
THE KEY TO THE DOOR
BY FIELDING BALL
ILLUSTRATIONS BY WALTER JACK DUNCAN
"There was the Door to which I found no Key;
There was the Veil through which I might not see.
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee
There was—and then no more of Thee and Me."