[Illustration of a mother looking at an infant cradled in her arms. Backdrop is an unrolled scroll, feather pen, and inkwell. Infant’s shadow is cast onto the blank scroll.] His Epitaph (1922) [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] HE wasn’t rich; he wasn’t great, His place was lowly and obscure. His clothing was not up-to-date, His house was tumble-down and poor. No honor did he claim. He never walked with lords and kings. No glory has illumed his name, But he was kind to helpless things. He won no victories to boast. He made no conquests, waged no strife. He never led a conquering host; He lived an unpretentious life. But, when is writ the judgment scroll, And Time its final verdict brings, This will be said of him: his soul Was rich in love for helpless things. The Lens (1922) Here is a little piece of glass Set in a tube of shining brass. Through it had passed in grand review All that the world’s heart ever knew Of joy, hope, sorrow, love and fears, The ceaseless struggle of the years, The darkest schemes the evil know, The noblest service men can show. Through it the risen dead have walked, The spectres of the past have stalked. Hope realized has lingered there, Likewise the shape of dark despair. This bit of glass is seasoned well, For human tongue could never tell The half it knows of peace and strife, And all that makes the old world’s life. The Magic of the Screen (1922) WE look down summer lanes on winter days, We see the snow amid the summer’s heat. Far lands are brought and laid before our gaze. The woodland stream runs by the city street. The light of noonday breaks the shades of night, And then is softened to the starlight’s sheen. The dawn and twilight mingle in our sight, Such is the fairy magic of the screen. THE heavy-hearted slip away from tears And find the gladness of a fleeting hour In fairer spaces and more peaceful years, Where is no dearth of laughter, sun, and flower. Youth sees the future. Age with faded eye Looks back in joy on many a vanished scene, And walks again among the days gone by. Such is the fairy magic of the Screen. [Photo of palm trees with the caption: Photography by Rice, Los Angeles] The Making of Heaven (1922) GOD took the paths we longed in vain to go, And built a golden street beside a river. He took the gates Time closed to us below, And built a portal that shall stand forever. He took the longings that were vague and dim, And hedged about by human limitation; And built a world without a scar or rim To be our everlasting habitation. He took the bitter pangs that life has cost; Transformed them into joy, and song, and wonder. He took the treasured blessings we have lost, And planted them beside the waters yonder.