Through bushes half obscured, a marble slab Peers out like a pale face. Inscribed upon Its weathered surface that the lichen growth And winter’s storms have blurred, a few brief words The curious eye may spell with labored care. To “H” and “M” - perhaps - and the terse phrase So haunting in its stark simplicity And pathos, - “Lost at sea.” The changeless gulfs Of ocean knew the dead man mentioned here Where bushes riot o’er an empty grave, But what old friend remembers him today? Ofttimes, no doubt, upon the wet sea sand He traced his name in childhood, while the waves Erased the halting script. Another hand Has etched that name in form more durable; But year by year, the ceaseless ebb and flow Of time’s remorseless tides obliterate The letters shrunken to initials faint, And that last solemn statement - “Lost at sea”. Much has been written on the vanity Of human life, but never penned more tense With meaning than this lonely epitaph Set in a thicket on a crumbling stone. THE ASPEN Lonely aspen rising high Straight and true you greet the eye. Bent by every passing breeze Weakest, slenderest of trees; Yet what grace, what stateliness Every leaf and twig express! Brittle limbs of little worth, How from out thy meager girth May we fashion wood for use? What may be the frail excuse For thy lovely shaft of green On the verge of my ravine? But the aspen, wise and shy Never deigned to make reply. Swayed to every wandering air Shed its beauty everywhere, Till its friendly dignity Made its message clear to me. God designed thee, aspen slim Who am I to question Him? In the mighty scheme of things You and I play minor strings Yet your part has been well done Mine is only half begun! [Illustration] THE SONG OF THE SEA GULLS Hark how the sea gulls are screaming with glee Piercing as Pipes of Pan! Keening their songs to the beach and the sea Sung since the world began; O’er breakers combing in jubilant strife, Flecked with their foaming and throbbing with life, Here they come homing - O shrill as a fife List to their wild elan! They are the spirits exultant and free, Up in the clouds they belong. Ever aspiring in skyland to be, Theirs is the verve of the strong. Here they go steering through canyons of air, Onward careering, and eager to dare, Scornful of fearing with never a care List to the lilt of their song! BROKEN FRAGMENTS Only a bit of broken glass Half concealed in the tangled grass, But the sunbeam found a pathway through On its arrow flight from the vault of blue And straight through the weed grown thicket came To touch that glass with its kindling flame.