JUST THINK! "Just think! some night the stars will gleam Upon a cold, grey stone, And trace a name with silver beam, And lo! 'twill be your own, "That night is speeding on to greet Your epitaphic rhyme. Your life is but a little beat Within the heart of Time. "A little gain, a little pain, A laugh lest you may moan; A little blame, a little fame, A star-gleam on a stone." Rhymes of a Rolling Stone. Perhaps it is because the men of the north are always so near to death and so conscious of death that they hold to the strict Puritanical rules of conduct that they do, expressed in Service's "The Woman and the Angel," that story of the Angel who came down to earth and withstood all the temptations until he met the beautiful, sinning woman, and who was about to fall. Hear her tempt him: "Then sweetly she mocked his scruples, and softly she him beguiled: 'You, who are verily man among men, speak with the tongue of a child. We have outlived the old standards; we have burst like an overtight thong The ancient outworn, Puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong.'" "Then the Master feared for His angel, and called him again to His side, For O, the woman was wondrous, and O, the angel was tried! And deep in his hell sang the devil, and this was the strain of his song: 'The ancient, outworn, Puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong.'" The Spell of the Yukon. And I doubt not, but that we all need that warning not to give up "The ancient, outworn, Puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong." RHYMES OF A RED CROSS MAN Here it is that we find a consciousness of the Eternal creeping through the smoke and din and glare. Here, like the hard, dangerous life of the Alaskan trails, only harder and more dangerous; here amid war in "The Fool" we catch six last lines that thrill us: "He died with the glory of faith in his eyes, And the glory of love in his heart. And though there's never a grave to tell, Nor a cross to mark his fall, Thank God we know that he "batted well" In the last great Game of all." Rhymes of a Red Cross Man. And even amid the terrible thunder of war the "Lark" sings, as Service reminds us in his poem of that name, sings and points to heaven: "Pure heart of song! do you not know That we are making earth a hell? Or is it that you try to show Life still is joy and all is well? Brave little wings! Ah, not in vain You beat into that bit of blue: Lo! we who pant in war's red rain Lift shining eyes, see Heaven too!" Rhymes of a Red Cross Man.