Now for a final mood, As it were second sight. I open the door, Walk from the house of Jack, look at the roof, The chimneys, over them see depths of blue. Jack's house becomes a little ark that sails, Tosses and bobbles in an infinite sea. And all events of evil, war and strife, The pain and folly, test of this and that, The groping from one thing to something else, Old systems turned to new, old eras dead, New eras rising, these are ripples all Moving from some place in the eternal sea Where Jack is throwing stones,--these ripples lap Against the house of Jack, or toss it so The occupants go reeling here and there, Laugh, scowl, grow sick, tread on each other's toes. While all the time the sea is most concerned With tides and currents, little with the house, Ignore this Elenor Murray or Voltaire, Who living and who dying reproduce Ripples upon the pools of time and place, That knew them; and so on where neither eye Nor mind can trace the ripples vanishing In ether, realms of spirit, what you choose! * * * * * Now on a day when Merival was talking More evidence at the inquest, he is brought The card of Mary Black, associate Of Elenor Murray in the hospital Of France, and asks the coroner to hear What Elenor Murray suffered in the war. And Merival consents and has her sworn; She testifies as follows to the jury: Poor girl, she had an end! She seems to me A torch stuck in a bank of clay, snuffed out, Her warmth and splendor wasted. Never girl Had such an ordeal and a fate before. She was the lucky one at first, and then Evils and enemies flocked down upon her, And beat her to the earth. But when we sailed You never saw so radiant a soul, While most of us were troubled, for you know Some were in gloom, had quarreled with their beaux, Who did not say farewell. And there were some Who talked for weeks ahead of seeing beaux And having dinners with them who missed out. We were a tearful, a deserted lot. And some were apprehensive--well you know! But Elenor, she had a beau devoted Who sent her off with messages and love, And comforts for her service in the war. And so her face was lighted, she was gay, And said to us: "How wonderful it is To serve, to nurse, to play our little part For country, for democracy." And to me She said: "My heart is brimming over with love. Now I can work and nurse, now use my hands To soothe and heal, which burn to finger tips, With flame for service."