I have studied many times The marble which was chiseled for me— A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. In truth it pictures not my destination But my life. For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. And now I know that we must lift the sail And catch the winds of destiny Wherever they drive the boat. To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness, But life without meaning is the torture Of restlessness and vague desire— It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid. Hon. Henry Bennett It never came into my mind Until I was ready to die That Jenny had loved me to death, with malice of heart. For I was seventy, she was thirty—five, And I wore myself to a shadow trying to husband Jenny, rosy Jenny full of the ardor of life. For all my wisdom and grace of mind Gave her no delight at all, in very truth, But ever and anon she spoke of the giant strength Of Willard Shafer, and of his wonderful feat Of lifting a traction engine out of the ditch One time at Georgie Kirby’s. So Jenny inherited my fortune and married Willard— That mount of brawn! That clownish soul! Griffy the Cooper The cooper should know about tubs. But I learned about life as well, And you who loiter around these graves Think you know life. You think your eye sweeps about a wide horizon, perhaps, In truth you are only looking around the interior of your tub. You cannot lift yourself to its rim And see the outer world of things, And at the same time see yourself. You are submerged in the tub of yourself— Taboos and rules and appearances, Are the staves of your tub. Break them and dispel the witchcraft Of thinking your tub is life And that you know life. Sersmith the Dentist Do you think that odes and sermons, And the ringing of church bells, And the blood of old men and young men, Martyred for the truth they saw With eyes made bright by faith in God, Accomplished the world’s great reformations? Do you think that the Battle Hymn of the Republic Would have been heard if the chattel slave Had crowned the dominant dollar, In spite of Whitney’s cotton gin, And steam and rolling mills and iron And telegraphs and white free labor? Do you think that Daisy Fraser Had been put out and driven out If the canning works had never needed Her little house and lot? Or do you think the poker room Of Johnnie Taylor, and Burchard’s bar Had been closed up if the money lost And spent for beer had not been turned, By closing them, to Thomas Rhodes For larger sales of shoes and blankets, And children’s cloaks and gold-oak cradles? Why, a moral truth is a hollow tooth Which must be propped with gold. A. D. Blood