And still in the honest working world, With posture and hint and smirk, These sons of the devil are standing by While man does all the work. They balk endeavor and baffle reform, In the sacred name of law; And over the quavering voice of Hem Is the droning voice of Haw. DAISIES Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, A host in the sunshine, an army in June, The people God sends us to set our hearts free. The bobolinks rallied them up from the dell, The orioles whistled them out of the wood; And all of their singing was, “Earth, it is well!” And all of their dancing was, “Life, thou art good!” _Richard Burton_ Richard (Eugene) Burton was born at Hartford, Connecticut, March 14, 1861. He has taught English at various colleges and universities since 1888, and has been head of the English department of the University of Minnesota since 1906. His first book, _Dumb in June_ (1895), is, in many ways, his best. It contains a buoyant lyricism, a more conscious use of the strain developed in Carman and Hovey’s _Songs from Vagabondia_—a mood which he has never surpassed. Much of his other verse is far less distinctive, being what might be called “anonymous poetry”: a poetry that has, in spite of certain excellent qualities, little trace of the individual and practically no stamp of personality or place. The succeeding _Lyrics of Brotherhood_ (1899) has a wider vision if a more limited music; several of the poems in this collection reflect the hungers, dreams and unsung melodies of the dumb and defeated multitudes. _From the Book of Life_ (1909) has scarcely as much power and less poetry. Besides his verse, Burton has written several books of essays, a life of Whittier and various volumes on the drama. BLACK SHEEP From their folded mates they wander far, Their ways seem harsh and wild; They follow the beck of a baleful star, Their paths are dream-beguiled. Yet haply they sought but a wider range, Some loftier mountain-slope, And little recked of the country strange Beyond the gates of hope. And haply a bell with a luring call Summoned their feet to tread Midst the cruel rocks, where the deep pitfall And the lurking snare are spread. Maybe, in spite of their tameless days Of outcast liberty, They’re sick at heart for the homely ways Where their gathered brothers be.